


A Deeper Blue Sea

by TomKurbikston



Category: Freddie Page - Fandom, The Deep Blue Sea (2011), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Erotica, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-02 11:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11508168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomKurbikston/pseuds/TomKurbikston
Summary: June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.





	1. Prologue

_London around 1950…_

 

She looked dead. Her body was motionless and her arm collapsed as jelly falling on the ground, when she tried to verify her pulse. Although she clearly wasn’t able to react, she was still breathing. She was lying on a blanket arranged on the floor, her head near the gas meter. Capsules were scattered around her.

“Hester, please wake up!” said the sleek woman kneeling beside her.

She was desperately shaking her, and she received a faint moan in only response.

“Ms Elton, could you please search for Mr Miller?” she asked to their landlady who was observing with disapprobation, standing in the doorframe.

Ms Elton turned her back to the scene in a hurry, nearly stumbling on the brown suitcase displayed next to the door.

“I am on my way. Don’t forget your luggage and please get your post before leaving.” she retorted to the young woman harshly.

A few minutes later, Mr Miller, an elder neighbour around 70, showed up in his tattered cotton pyjamas with a small medical case in hands, followed by the downstairs neighbour, Mr Welch. Both men carried Hester carefully onto her bed. Mr Miller wasn’t an authentic physician, but he understood instantly the situation as he was accustomed to this. He had brought all the necessary medicine in his case.

Ms Elton fetched for a broom and briskly began to erase any evidence of the committed crime, while June gently covered the convalescent with a blanket.

June Grant was Hester Page next-door neighbour for a few months. The two women were 10 year different in ages. When one was a widow and an independent girl, the other pretended to be married. Lamentably, she was left alone to frequently by her young fake husband. After a while, their friendship grew closer, but remained discreet about their mutual life. This was an unspoken agreement. Each other marital situation was a secret that shouldn’t be revealed.

At last, Hester regained consciousness. She reclined drowsy under the coverlet for a while, still in shock and terribly ashamed of herself. She rose from her bed, when June brought her the tea Ms. Elton had made. The landlady expressed some last recommendations, tainted by a hint of judgement. Then, slowly one by one, the neighbours cleared the dimly lite flat, leaving the two friends alone.

“Hes, did Freddie really deserve that?” asked June to break the heavy silence.

Hester took her time to meditate, but she was forced by the insistent glance of the auburn hair girl. Despite her juvenile appearance, her eyes were often sad and serious, as she ever endured a hundred years.

“June, you couldn’t understand, I … we…”

June interrupted :

“Oh, believe me. I do understand. I was like you, once. Though, never mind how charming and caring a man could be, he would never be worth doing this. I have at least learned that.”

“What do you mean? I always thought you were a war widow.”

“I am… almost. It’s more complicated than that…” June answered while she sat on the couch watching her neighbour’s back. “Hester, ask for the divorce from your real husband, the one you are keeping secret. Then find a job and take care of yourself. That’s my best advice. I know it’s not easy. Society despises females like us. But we can make it. Stop depending on this man.”

“A job? What kind of job, I am not able to do anything.”

“Hester, you are a brilliant and fine educated woman. You can do more than you think.”

June opened her handbag hanging on the kitchen chair and she pulled out a little black notebook and a pencil. She swiftly wrote a phone number and an address and ripped the page off.

“Here you are. This is one of my friend address. We used to work at the War Office years ago. Nowadays, she is an accountant at the London Library in James’s Square. I am aware that she needs an auxiliary. I already recommended you.”

“Are you really leaving, then?” said Hester. June nodded. “Where are you travelling?”

“To Cuba. I was offered a job as a secretary at the British Embassy in La Havana.”

“That sounds exciting. I am going to miss you, June.”

“I will miss you too… Oh, I gave over my apartment to another former colleague. We comforted each other during the war, and we still do. So if you need anything, you can call her. Remember to take care of yourself, will you? If you want to love him, do it, but don’t let him control your life.”

For a long time, the two women affectionately hugged each other. Feeling confident that Hester would be alright, the young woman grabbed her suitcase and exited the flat. Hester, rushed to the window to watch as her friend walked to the black cab waiting at the curb. June, in her houndstooth skirt ensemble, raised her hand and gave a final wave, as she opened the cab door.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

_Cuba, summer 1956_

He entered the British Embassy in his white linen suit stained by perspiration. The summer was hot on this Island. It was the third time he came to see someone responsible, someone who could eventually lend a hand to a fellow citizen. He pathetically waited for hours without any satisfaction. Yet, he was determined to meet anybody. He took off his panama hat and drew closer the receptionist. He wore his most dazzling smile. The same old British lady was standing still behind her wooden desk. She welcomed him politely, but she stayed steadfast. He had tried to use his charmed on her many times before. Maybe today, she would be more receptive.

“Hello Darling,” he said with his shinier grin. “Would you be kind enough to help me, please? I am a very desperate man.”

“Dear Sir, I have unfortunately told you twice already that her Majesty's Ambassador may not be disturbed for personal matters. You need to address him with a formal written request.”

He leaned forward on the desk and caressed his chin.

“I did. Regrettably, he hasn't seem to have received it.”

“Sir, we do deliver him his messages in due diligence.” said the secretary obviously spited.

“I am sure you do, of course. However, again, please help me. I would do anything for you in reparation. I would make you a true English tea and brought it here everyday if you request it.” He seductively pleaded.

“I am not that kind of woman!” she answered, eyeing him behind her thick glasses with an offended look.

“FUBAR!” he shouted.

“I beg your pardon!”

“Oh, come on, beldam! I am a former British Officer. I fought for you in France, I fought for this Country and now you refuse to support me! Isn’t there any gratitude left…”

“Mr Page?” a gentle voice arose from the top of the staircase.

Freddie lifted his head to see an elegant young woman with a short boyish haircut. She was wearing a sleeveless fashionable white dress, with a red belt revealing her waist. She moved smoothly to meet him, her red high-heels clapping on the marble floor. Glancing her up and down, he took a moment to recall her familiar figure. Yes, he knew her, nevertheless her skin came across as less pale, her eyes were greener than the ivy covered walls that used to drape over the outside of their London flats, and her smile was warmer than he remembered. That was her, definitely, his former neighbour. The mystery brunette that he crossed regularly in the lobby: Hester’s friend.

“Mrs Grant?”

“Please call me June, no formality is required here for long-time acquaintances. What brings you to Cuba?” she asked.

“Well, I am a pilot. For a few months, I've been working with a Mexican pal just outside the city. We manage a little tourist transport company.”

“That’s a wonderful project! What can the embassy do for you?”

“The Cuban government is supposed to provide me with a flying authorization. However, I have been waiting months for it. I urgently need it, otherwise I might go bankrupt soon. My last hope is to ask my Embassy for some help. Unfortunately, I am unable to speak to anybody.”

“I may be able to aid you,” said the young beauty, mercifully, “Actually, I am Mr Fordham assistant. Please, follow me into my office. We could discuss your problem privately.”

June collected the stack of files that the old receptionist handed her and she breezed ahead of Freddie who trailed behind her delighted.

Her office was based in the East Wing of the British Embassy. They had to walk up an imposing marble staircase that led to the balcony of the first floor. Freddie watched her attentively, marvelled at her endless legs. They moved along the gallery to the northeast corner. Underneath, the reception desk was visible from every angle as it occupied the middle of the ground floor. Just behind it a colonial-style lounge was the main attraction point of the vast neoclassical building.

June opened a large wooden door, and invited Freddie to come in. Through the windows, the sunbeams revealed shiny blond streaks in his dark sandy hair. He unbuttoned the jacket of his light linen suit before sitting in a chair in front of a large wood desk, where he laid his Panama hat. Her workplace was cramped and yet very functional and elegant. He felt at ease. Despite the furniture was out of fashion, and the materials and fabrics threadbare, it must have been expensive, because this style was in vogue in the early 1900. This English and refined environment, made him believe that June should be more than a simple secretary.

She laid the files on a tall pile of paper on her desk and asked:

“Would you like a glass of water, Freddie? Cuba is rather sultry at this season.”

“That would be lovely. You have a nice office in here. For how long have you been Mr Fordham’s assistant?”

“Since he took his position at the beginning of the year. Although, I have been working for the Embassy since I left London. I don’t use this room a lot, however it’s really convenient. This door leads straight to the Ambassador’s personal quarters. He isn’t in today, so we won’t be disturbed. Anyway, tell me, Freddie, what is your problem? You mentioned a flying authorization…”

Finally, she sat down behind her desk, and offered him a glass of fresh lemony water. He drank half of it in relief, and started to explain his dilemma. For a couple of months, a colleague and himself have been managing a modest tourist airport, some miles east of La Havana, on the road to Santa Cruz. They mainly ensured sightseeing of the Island, and on occasion, the transport of people and goods to Key Largo, in Florida. He was working with his Mexican mate, Guillermo who used to be a test pilots in Rio. Guillermo received the necessary credentials to fly long ago. Unfortunately, the Cuban executive came across as a little hesitant for his. He was hoping to use the stable connection between England and Batista to accelerate the process.

June considered that coming for help to his fellow citizens was a positive sign. If he had turned to the Americans or the mob, she could imagine what kind of product he would have ended up carrying.

“Well, the current situation is kicking off as slightly tensed in Cuba, but I am going to see what I can do to help you. That shouldn’t be too difficult. Would you mind entrusting me with your passport, your personal address and the name and location of your company?” She replied.

He plunged a hand into his jacket, and plucked his passport out of his inner pocket. June realized that his chest had broadened since England, as his white cotton shirt was pretty tight, and several buttons threatened to surrender. She gave him a pen and a piece of paper, where he wrote the requested information. His handwriting was energetic, so far away from the traditional English old-school writing. She noticed his address in the centre of La Havana, a grass-root area, full of booze and local people. It wasn’t the most secure place, but he probably paid a cheap rent. She understood that he might be in a truly delicate position. His linen outfit wasn’t recent, and after watching carefully, it seemed shabby. Yet, he had all the manners of a proper English Gentleman.

“Are you happy with your apartment in La Habana Centro? It’s not a very quiet area,” she said.

“I am living on the first floor of a cantina, so I wouldn’t call it ‘quiet.’” He laughed. “I guess it comes with the pleasure of an authentic spot.”

“If you are looking for something more comfortable, I know a charming boarding house in Miramar. Ask for Seniora Anita. She rents rooms to a lot of expatriates. Some are even working for the Embassies thereabouts. They all call her Mama Nita; she takes care of her guests like her own children. Her prices are more than fair. If there’s no vacancy, she will recommend you to a friend. Tell her June sent you. I used to live there, and she always wanted to overfeed me.” She joked.

He contemplated her and he figured out the landlady intentions. June wasn’t as generous as the plump Cuban girls. She was slimmer and more graceful. Anyway, June also possessed beautiful curves, nice round breasts and hips that unreservedly suited him: a classy English woman with something more genuine and more invigorating than in his home country. It must be the exciting Cuban air, the sun or the summer warmth.

“Thank you, Mrs Grant. Sorry, I meant June…” He smiled widely.

“You are welcome. However you shouldn’t thank me, because I haven’t done anything yet. I suggest that you come back here within 10 days. I hope I would have good news for you.”

Spontaneously, she stood up and led him to the door. He had to leave her, and with regrets he shook her hand. She looked at him with her light turquoise-green eyes, and her hand lingered on his a while longer than what should be acceptable. He put on his hat and said another rapid goodbye, she closed the door behind him.

 

***

 

At the end of the evening, the temperature was still sweltering, so this was a good reason to take a bus and have a stroll along the ocean front. She also wished to have a cold drink in a bar at la Vieja, the historical centre of La Havana. The square was usually packed with American tourists, in spite it wasn’t the high-season. They enjoyed the arrival of evening under the sun before going to the countless casinos and clubs. A few inhabitants, some established worthies accompanied them, often in search of prestige and profitable deals.

She found a table in a corner of “The Bodeguita del Medio,” she ordered a virgin mojito and let herself sink into a book. A woman alone in a bar drinking alcohol wasn’t conventional, even in such a tropical place. Her reading, the old Brontë classic “The Wuthering Heights” offered her a bit of peace and save her honour. The pub was still calm at that hour, artists and local celebrities would show up later.

She tasted a gulp of her mojito, when the customer at the table nearby grabbed his borsalino, left two pesos in the saucer and exited. He passed close by, and dropped his newspaper on the floor, yet he didn’t take notice. She picked up the edition of today’s “Havana Post,” and began to idly browse it. She wasn’t interested in the latest news, but in its content. Between pages 3 and 4, she discovered a folded sheet of paper that she read and briskly hide into her handbag. Then, she paid her beverage and left the bar. She didn’t notice that her attractive figure emphasized by her red shoes tapping on the floor and her waist-fitted white dress caught the attention of a man leaned to the counter: Ernest Hemingway.

Outside the café, Cathedral Square was crammed too. A band of musicians were playing for the tourists, a meld between mambo and jazz. She crossed the plaza and entered the Cathedral, a solemn baroque monument with Tuscan inspirations. She walked lazily to sense a cooler Christian breeze, at last. However the nave was humming, nobody was praying; only visitors were whispering comments. The same ones would be drunk in nightclubs in the end. She went straight up to one of the side chapels. A painting by Rubens was displayed on the wall in the dim light; regrettably, it was a reproduction. A well-groomed man was standing alone in front of it, captured by the devotional subject. He obviously was a foreigner, but not a tourist. Dressed in a three-piece suit, he was too neat and a bit out of place. The sultriness didn’t even cause any perspiration stain on the fabric of his costume. A shade of grey hair framed his amicable face that nevertheless remained impassible. He stayed at a distance when he greeted her.

“Good evening, Mrs Grant. I am glad to see you.”

“Good evening, Mr Clifton.” She answered and took a seat on the bench in front of the painting. He settled at her side and began to talk with a low voice. Nobody paid any attention to them; they didn’t look as a captivating couple or as long time relations; they just seemed to share an interest in art.

“We were able to put our agent in a safe place.” Declared Geoffrey Clifton.

“I am reassured to hear that. Times are beginning to get complicated. I don’t know how long the Americans will support Batista. We might have to change our strategy.”

“Yes, the council is aware of that. Yet, we need to find more information. I noticed that Mr Christopher Evans—the CIA agent—is getting a bit fluster. I also noted he showed an interest in you, maybe you should concede him a date.”

She sighed, “I don’t know if I am the appropriate person to do this job. Chris always checked me out too thoroughly, and I am afraid he suspects something about my situation from the beginning. He might be really reluctant to tell me anything.”

“Stay close to him anyway. We still don’t know if he is totally faithful to the CIA, or if he shared potential interests with Meyer Lansky and Santo Trafficante.” Whispered Mr Clifton in a bitter tone.

“From where I stand, I would say ‘for both,’ probably. Actually the US and mafia’s benefits aren’t that divergent in Cuba.”

Mr Clifton approved her remarks in silence. He was likely the only man around that appreciated her spirit, and he was the only person to whom she could express her opinions. As her undercover boss, he expected her to be smart and nosy, but she should also appear as an innocent sweet secretary. After a few seconds of reflection, he kept on.

“On the other side, Batista is fighting the rebellion with extreme violence since last summer, but he would prefer this information to remain quiet. We have knowledge on the Directorio who might reorganize in Mexico, and would undeniably come back in the near future. So, I received orders to create an escape plan in case of an evacuation, first for our employees, then for our citizens. I need you to track down someone in your files with a profile that could fit.”

“What kind of person, do you have in mind?” she asked.

“Someone patriotic who wishes to serve his country, without a political background, who knows how to be discreet, perhaps with a business position and faculties to go out of Cuba easily.”

“Would a former Royal Air Force officer managing a simple tourist airport be suitable?”

“That would be perfect! You have someone in mind?”

“I might! You could verify his military record, I am sure. But, please, don’t mention my name. I don’t want to be part of your deal with him. I met him in London, so he shouldn’t know about me.”

“Of course, we need to keep you safe. Continue with your surveillance.”

June gave him the information on Freddie that she knew it by heart.

Mr Clifton suddenly departed without another word. She carried on admiring the painting for a while, then left the cathedral. Poor Freddie! As soon as he arrived in Cuba, and he already may have more problems than he thought. Nevertheless, she preferred having him on her side than working for Chris Evans and his mafia friends. Mr Clifton would make that sure.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RATING: M/NSFW+18  
> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: smut in following chapters…  
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen.

June was practically flying above the streets, her ruby converses silently ran on the pavement. People started to go in and out of their houses crossing each other to usher the evening festive mood. The midsummer sun glow was fading on the edge to disappear. Its pink and tangerine reflects emphasized the exotic feel of La Havana, the colourful colonial houses came across even brighter. Everything was so exciting in Cuba. The buildings were animated with Caribbean shades, the streets constantly dancing with music in the background, and the Spanish accents were singing. The town never slept, and Havana nights were the hottest. Even the rain was a source of exaltation, a reason to pleasure the freshness and look forward to admiring the luxuriant greenery. It was nothing like England, no sign of fog, no brisk drizzle, no grey lands and no after-war melancholy. Cuba was the future, the Pearl of the Caribbean.

After a sweltering day at the Embassy, June walked smoothly in Vedado Calles(1) with a sea-green cropped trousers, and a white sleeveless shirt. Just a touch of make-up and she looked radiant as ever. She passed by an olive car parked in the corner of the streets. The existence of this SIM(2) vehicle couldn’t bother her. Nevertheless it was a discreet reminder that Fulgencio Batista, the Cuban president is considered as a dictator after all.

She crossed the road between two red American automobiles, and hopped the curb to approach the fruits seller with his baskets displayed in the middle of the path. The farmer had arranged his pineapples and bananas earlier in the morning, and would only leave when he sold everything.

An elder black lady was attempting to speed the vendor to fill up her two fabric sacks. She harshly negotiated the prices as her survival depended on the deal.

“Ola, Mama Nita! How are you doing?” warmly interrupted June.” Could I help you to carry those?”

“Ola, Dulce Chica!” muttered the old woman, her Montecristo(3) between her teeth. It wasn’t lit, but she couldn’t get rid of this bad habit.

“Whom do you take me for? I’m not one of those impotent grumpy old women. I can hoist my bags alone.”

“Sorry Mama. But, some day, you should think of taking care of yourself. What would we do without you, our sunshine beam?”

“Cherida, maybe you should look after you as well. Just look at you Chica, you are so skinny, you should eat more. Come home, one evening to have a proper meal. How will you find a decent man, if you are a skeleton?”

Mama Nita firmly grasped her bags into her hands and started to walk. She laboriously moved her massive hips, swaying, her blazing yellow shirt keeping time with her hips like that of a metronome. She was a true spitfire wearing a canary headscarf twisted around her hair. Her kindhearted and volcanic temper transformed her into a bull in a china shop. Although, she was the loveliest brindle you’d ever met. Unlike the animal, her eyes were dazzling and soft, they pierced you and comfort you at the same time. Her skin was smooth, with a few freckles, but barely wrinkled. She seemed ageless, like an angel.

“Speaking about men, I may have recommended your guesthouse to a long-time acquaintance.”

“The inglès Gentleman! He will move in at the end of the week. That’s a real handsome guy for once, a change from the rednecks. He would be a great match for you, Chica. See your friend, Shirley, she got herself a nice hombre.”

“I should have guessed that you would play matchmaker again. Yet, remember Mama that you’re definitely not good at it. When you planned a blind dates for Shirley, she ended up wooing the taxi driver. However, now he has moved up, he’s working as chauffeur for an American businessman, and he proposed to Shirley.” Teased June.

From their spot, they both noticed Mama Nita’s abode, a pastel yellowish colonial house stuck between a baby blue and a greenish matching building. A petulant platinum blonde was standing on the porch distractingly smoking a cigarette. She was dressed in casual clothes, and she looked rather sexy.

“La Americana is waiting for you, Chica.”

“Yes, it’s secretary night every two weeks. We have a rendezvous with our friends at cine La Rampa.”

“Why would you waste your time in cinema, fancying about the new Hollywood hunky face, when you could go out and meet an established man in a casino on Maleçon?” Lectured Mama Nita.

“Because Modern women don’t need a man, especially not a drunken one who lost all his money and can’t afford to pay for the trip back.” Answered June already used to Mama’s lectures.

“You are perfectly right.” Laughed Mama, “Although you can’t stay a widow for the rest of your life.”

“You are also a widow, Mama!”

The elderly Cuban asked for a break before climbing the few stairs that led to her door. So, she dropped her fruit bags on the floor.

“Mi cherida, I may be septuagenarian, and I pray for my husband every day. Yet, that doesn’t imply that you have to continue to be alone until your grave.”

Shirley stubbed out her cigarette in an amphora filled with sand hiding behind a huge aloe vera on the porch. She hurtled down the stairs to grab one of Mama Nita’s bags when she was still counselling June about her love life. The English girl seized the last bag, and followed Shirley inside the house. Behind their backs, they could hear the Cuban mumbled and complained. Mama reassembled her skirt in her hands to allow her heavy figure to painfully furl up the stairs. She then took her cigar between her fingers, and was now set free to yell and rankly talk, yet she went on muttering laments in Spanish, slightly vexed. Finally, at the door, she noticed that the secretaries had put the groceries in the kitchen and were coming back.

“Mi cherida, you are some sweet girls, you would make some happy men.” Winked the flamboyant woman, “June you should take example on your friend.”

Mama Nita sat on the metallic chair displayed next to the entrance and at last lit up her Montecristo.

“Mama, please stop bothering her.” Giggled the blonde, “In any case, I found the best man on Earth, so it’s hopeless for her.”

“La Americana is in love, and she is leaving me on Friday. ” Mocked Mama.

“Absolutamente!” Proudly said Shirley, “June, I heard you know the man who will inherit my room. Mama is endlessly speaking about “el Inglès.”

June rolled her eyes, “Good Lord! Don’t begin with him, she already praised his gentleman qualities. Anyway, we have to go or we’ll miss the movie.”

The two pretty women wandered the street and turned at the following corner to walk in the next Calle. Shirley was working as a secretary to the American Embassy. She was in her early twenty, a babydoll, a woman child attracting men like a magnet. They say men prefer blondes, she was a living proof of it. Although she appeared ingénue and innocent, she wasn’t the shy type. She was very energetic and a bit exuberant. Her curves were generous. Always ready to party and have fun, this little bundle of warmth was a delight to spend time with. She came to Cuba for adventure, but she remained a girl who dreamt about prince charming, an idyllic marriage, and a horde of children. She found her happiness with a Cuban lad who only had eyes for her.

Shirley was glad to have a lady’s night with other secretaries, yet she couldn’t help to talk about her future husband. She suggested June to accompany them to a bar after the movie, a proposition that she was happy to accept. They also mentioned her and the groom moving in together before the wedding. That didn’t shock June, but she acknowledged that wouldn’t be considered as appropriate in England. That was Cuba, so far away from home. The early relocation released a room, so Freddie was able to fill the vacancy as soon as possible. It seemed like a musical chair game, where you wait until the bus of happiness stopped to get on board. That was the contradiction of Cuba: hope and pain.

***

In front of cine la Rampa, a group of three women were chit-chatting and laughing. Patiently, they were waiting in line to buy tickets for tonight’s movie. The top of the entrance was shining in neon lights where the program detached itself in giant black letters. James Dean, Nathalie Wood and Sal Mineo were starring in “Rebel Without a Cause.” All the girls, even in Caribbean were excited to see the new Hollywood cutie who broke through the previous year. One of the women was working with Shirley, the second, a French Canadian, occupied the same position for the Embassy, and the third was a Cuban that served at the minister of Foreigners and Internal Affairs. These five friends regularly shared this kind of moment together, where they had a drink and talked about their job, a pleasant way to relax, and for June, to get information. Those women reminded her of old times, when she was at Bletchley Park, during WWII doing her duty for her country with four other girls. They formed a team that supported each other. At that time, Mr Clifton had become her supervisor. At that time, she was also hiding. She was keeping a low profile, exploiting big history to make her own personal scandal be forgotten. For everyone, June Grant was a war widow. At that time, it seemed to be the end of her life. However, today in Cuba, those girls believed in future, in being forever happy ever after. They brought her optimism and she felt lighter.

The team soon found themselves a seat in the dark room of the movie theatre. They could then sip a bottle of coke captivated by the story: young people searching for attention and a meaning to their life in California. James Dean, the newcomer, was stunning and his presence irradiated. The childlike Sal Mineo was really touching and didn’t leave apart the feminine interests. Nathalie Wood was the girl they all could relate to. The public would doubtlessly envisage buying a red jacket, the next day.

They ended up to have a drink at the café next door, commenting on the movie. June managed to acquire an appointment with Carla, the Cuban from the Ministry, for tomorrow’s lunch. She needed to discuss about a certain flying authorization.

After a while, Gaël, Shirley’s boyfriend arrived behind the wheel of a gleaming navy blue Mercury Montclair convertible, a car that his boss lent him for the night. He honked and parked in the street, to get the girls’ attention. Shirley ran to him and jumped on the front seat. She wrapped her arms around her fiancé whose face lit up when he saw her. June said goodbye to the three other secretaries and joined the couple. She took her place in the back seat happy to join them to have some daiquiris at the Florida Bar. The room was packed with people taking strength before exploring the real Havana. They were chilling, drinking and listening to mambo. The threesome stood beside the monumental wooden bar. And for the hundred time, Shirley described the details of the upcoming wedding ceremony. The event will be simple. Her future mother-in-law was yet taking care that the bride and her son had the best day of their life, with the heartiness of a family around them and enough food to feed a regiment. The girl parents unfortunately couldn’t attend. Gaël was so proud of his girlfriend fervour, when he spotted an elegant man entering.

“Hey! Look who just came in.’ He tossed his head to the door, ‘My boss!”

June followed where Gaël waved towards a good-looking man wearing grey linen trousers and a white cotton shirt slightly open on his large torso. He was impeccably dressed, hands manicured and seemed to come straight out of the barber. She could almost sense his cologne in the distance. She knew damn well whom this attractive man was.

“Wait a minute Gaël, do you mean that your boss is actually the CEO of Freeport Sulphur Company, Chris Evans? ”

“Yes, he is. Do you know him? ”

“Indeed, we have been introduced, yet he’s just a business relation. I was aware you worked for a rich industrialist, but I never connected the dots.” She answered. _‘How silly of me.’_ She thought.

Chris Evans now walked to the counter, oozing masculinity and self-confidence. Everywhere he went, he appeared as if he owned the place, and in less than no time he became the main attraction. There was always a barman that knew him, a call girl to welcome him with a sultry smile and a hot kiss, an American journalist to offer him a drink, or a Cuban official to politely greet him. He proceeded to meet his chauffeur, pat him cheerfully on the back and uttered confidently with his Bostonian accent,

“Hey Buddy! Do you enjoy your night out with your precious girl?”

“Yes, boss, thank you, boss. Did you know my fiancée, Shirley?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t forget her. Ms Jones is working at the American Embassy.” He respectfully said, kissing the back of the blond hand. “Mrs Grant, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” He claimed and then did the same with June’s hand. However, this time, he was more flirtatious, something in the corner of his grin was more playful.

“Good evening, Mr Evans.” Said June pulling her hand away.

“I didn’t know you were friends with my chauffeur. This is good news. We will have the chance to meet more often, outside our official duties.” He said while staring at her with his azure eyes.

Suddenly, he disappeared and left June without the possibility to answer. She had bumped into him several times for business parties. He usually wore tuxedos that widened his broad shoulder, but he nevertheless struck as gorgeous in his casual clothes. He resurfaced as quick as he was gone and whispered.

“Don’t tell anyone that I needed to talk to that guy over there. He is the Bolita(4) reseller in here. But, shhht, it’s illegal.”

He moved closer to her, so close that she felt his trimmed beard tickling her cheek. She recoiled, but he waved his hand behind her ear, feigned to catch a thing and pulled out a paper from her hair, like a magical trick to amuse kids.

“Here’s for you, Lady June. I bought a ticket for you. I hope to be your lucky charm on this one.” He winked.

Once more, June was speechless. This man always could disarm her. Like every spy, he kenned too much and he certainly figured out how to make her feel uncomfortable. Moreover, she was afraid of giving something away.

“If you win, Doll, you’ll owe me one. Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a card game waiting for me. See you soon.”

At the next table, Lefty Clark, a casino handler working for the American mob welcomed him. He was pleased to endorse him, and brotherly tapped Chris’ shoulders. The businessman was so tall that he had an excellent view on the Mafioso bald patch.  

***

The same night, Guillermo sat at the table with Chris and Lefty, and lost a fair amount of money. Unaware of his colleague misfortune, Freddie was plunked in an armchair on the terrace of the airport's main building, drinking a beer, watching the Moon’s reflection on the ocean. He wasn’t in the mood to party and preferred to guard the small airport that was silent at the hour of the evening. He tried to relish those quiet moments before he might lose everything. He still didn’t receive his authorization and he missed flying. The two men desperately needed a second pilot to ensure their business. He put all he possessed in this project, and he didn’t wish to go back to England like a beggar and a loser. Hester probably wouldn’t be very keen to see him and would not help him. With time, he didn’t stay in contact with his old pals there. His only hope was the woman working for the Embassy, a ghost from his past who marvellously took shape of a real beauty with haunting turquoise eyes and a curvy figure that kept him wondering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Signification:
> 
> 1\. Calle: Street  
> 2\. SIM: Servicio de Inteligencia Militar = Military Intelligence Service  
> 3\. Montecristo: Cuban cigar  
> 4\. Bolita = a popular and illegal lottery


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

The small office in the Ministry of Foreigner and Internal Affairs contrasted with June’s working place. It was a resounding room. The building, a sort of labyrinth with little hallways that led to multiple doors, was less ostentatious. Groups of people were talking in every corner, and others were walking the alleys in pairs. June had often visited her friend Carla here, so she knew her way around. She recognized common faces that disregarded her. She mainly went unnoticed and unsuspected.

Carla served in a bureau with twenty other secretaries or dactylographers aligned behind rows of desks, typewriters and bakelite telephone. Her work desk, the last in the right corner, was settled just next to her boss’s study door. This was a sign that she was the secretary of an important man, who had direct access to his assistant. His activity was anyhow rather unknown, actually nobody cared.

Carla welcomed her colleague complementing her on her outfit. June’s position demanded to wear expensive dresses and tailors to emphasize the prestige of the English Embassy. On the other side, Carla’s neutral tailor skirt in a plain and dull colour drowned her in the myriad of other humble workers.

June took the footstool aside Carla, and they began to whisper despite the constant beating of the typewriters.

“You mentioned a flying authorization for an acquaintance of yours. I managed to sneak into my colleague’s department, he had buried it under a stack of various requests. It was waiting for a tiny push to climb on top,” ironically said Carla.

“I know what you mean. I am aware of how things work around here.” Answered June who verified that no one was listening.

“Never mind, here it is!”

Carla pulled a folder loaded with papers out of a drawer. She opened it and handed June the first letter.

“It appears to be complete, no additional information is required. However, do you mind checking it one more time?”

June recognized Freddie’s handwriting at the first glimpse. He filled the form himself in a perfect Spanish. She learned that he used to be a lieutenant for the Royal Air Force and served in France during the Normandy landings, he then was dismissed of his duty after the war with a number of recognition and decorations. He became a test pilot in Rio for a South American company at the beginning of 1952. He had certain knowledge in mechanics and now managed an airport with Guillermo Fernandez a Mexican citizen. Nothing utterly new, but she could fill a few blanks for her. She easily imagined that Mr Clifton would be accommodated with his profile and with the addition of his secret military files; he’d without any doubt make a move.

“I don’t see anything odd. It looks perfectly fine to me.”

“That’s what I presumed. Now we just need a signature and a stamp.”

Carla added the date at the bottom of the page and put it in the middle of another pile of papers and stood up. She knocked on her boss’s door and waited for admittance. Alone at the desk, June contemplated her colleague’s office. The building was creaky, and its maintenance was flawed. The stucco on the walls was peeling, and the wooden floor were stained and scratched. Phones were endlessly ringing and the Spanish voices had to bark to be heard over each other. Ten minutes later Carla came back to her desk with a satisfied grin. An official stamp in hands she marked each paper and victoriously held the official signed and approved flying authorization.

“Vale!” She exclaimed.

“Carla, you are wonderful. I don’t know how I could pay you back.”

“As usual, June. Just offer me a drink at our next girl’s night. That’s what friends are made for, no?”

“I can do better. Let’s say I pay for our lunch today.” Suggested June.

“Great idea. I’m starving and I only have 45 minutes of break, so we should hurry up.”

Female solidarity truly existed. It was a relief to find that such generosity was still possible. June had always been able to count on her friends Although, some men considered that women were complicated, it was simpler and faster to deal between girls.

June seized her handbag that she left on the desktop while Carla reached into her lower desk drawers. They both exited the room accompanied by other women also going out for their lunch break. The duet was hidden in a wave of giggles and chatting young Cubans, when Chris walked down the stairs and his attention was caught by the appearance of so many gals. Anyway, he kept on talking with his partner, the chief of SIM, Manuel Blanco Rico. They both stared at the women.

“Jeez! That's Chris Evans over there! Lately he has been annoying me.” Whispered June, while discreetly pointing at him.

“Who? The tall handsome bearded guy? He is gorgeous. I have seen him here a few times before.”

“Oh really. Is he familiar with Blanco Rico?” asked June.

“I don’t know. But rumours report that a Cuban girl went missing. She was a rich heir, so there are a lot of gossips going around. Apparently Mr Evans has been asking a lot of questions about the investigation. Though, the SIM looked as being pretty cooperative.”

“Do you know her name?”

“No, but I could try to find a couple of things. You see how it is here. Everything is secret. But before the SIM confirms it is indeed, everybody is babbling about everything.”

“Listen, I don’t want you to have any problem. This could be risky, so please be cautious.”

“Of course, I will. Yet, there’s nothing like a hint of drama and thrills.”

“Mrs Grant, what a lovely surprise!” shouted Chris at the bottom of the stairs.

June who had walked ahead, stopped and turn back to greet him.

“Mr Evans, are you following me?” she joked; intending that being amicable could turn the situation in her advantage.

“I only wished, if only I wasn’t sure you would escape me. Who’s your beautiful companion?” he asked, gazing Carla as to undress her with his blue eyes.

“My name is Carla Pérez. I work here at the Ministry. June and I are into the same Movie Club.” She indicated and gave him her hand that he grasped with both hands.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Carla. A movie club, that’s sound exciting. What kinds of movies?”

“Love stories! Certainly, not your type of movie.” June interrupted.

“Maybe they are!” he winked.

Carla was frozen in place. June was amazed by the effect this man had on women. She also perceived that Chris was throwing an eye at her as he was checking her reaction and expected a hint of jealousy. This man wanted all, and she figured out he probably constantly get it. She remained expressionless.

“If you would excuse me, ladies, I have to leave you. I hope you will have a nice day. See you soon.” Beamed Chris.

“As always, you let us down at the last minute. I’m not sure you are a man to rely on, Mr Evans.” Mocked June.

“One day, you may let me prove otherwise,” he said before running through the door.

“Oh My God, he is…” began Carla.

“Dangerous!” ended June.

 

***

 

Clean shaved, Freddie smoothed his skin with his cologne, a fresh and orangey fragrance, a blend between grace and promises of adventure. He managed to tame his blond curls that stayed neat behind his neck. He slipped on the white cotton shirt that he just ironed to make it seemed pristine. He buttoned his sleeves with his military cuff links. His white linen suit wasn’t the latest. It was the only he possessed. However it would be the appropriate outfit for a night out in town. A beige silk scarf finalized the old-school English attire. A quick look at his reflection and he was satisfied with this effortless elegance. His tanned face contrasted with his sky-blue eyes. If he added his irresistible smile, he was sure to spend a good night.

A honk echoed in the street of la Havana Centro. Guillermo was waiting for him in his truck. Freddie counted the last dollar bills left, crossed himself to bring him luck and shoved the money clip into his pocket.

In less than 20 minutes, the pickup was driving on Malecón Avenue. They were fortunate to find a parking spot, whilst they had to walk a little to reach the largest casino-hotel in town: The National Hotel. This paradise for tourists and wealth was luxurious. It was already overcrowded, so they probably would wait to get a table. The first vacancy would decide whether they play dice, cards or roulette. Slot machines were other less prestigious possibilities. Freddie favoured games where he would have a sort of control, a game with numbers or cards sounded less hazardous. They were also more thrilling because you had an audience that expected and supported you. Your opponent was concrete. The adrenaline of playing and the ecstasy of winning were addictive. He was aware of this danger, so he tried to stay at distance as much as he could, although he allowed himself this pleasure from time to time, especially in this situation, where he had everything to lose and so much to gain.

The pair of friends stayed at the bar to refresh themselves with a Cuba Libre. Freddie would kill his mother for a Guinness—if she wasn’t already dead—and Guillermo dreamt of tequila, but rum and coke did the trick anyway. At the end, they found a space at a craps table where they began to lay wagers and scored. Two impeccably dressed man, tall and charming, with winning hands in casinos don’t remain unnoticed very long. When Freddie was blond and lean, Guillermo was raven and chunky. His boxer’s profile and dark eyes didn’t leave women insensitive. Two hotties surrounded them within no time. Freddie dropped a couple of games, but his luck returned when Guillermo lost a bundle at throwing the dice.

An American accent hailed the Mexican. Chris Evans dressed in a black tuxedo meet Guillermo at previous poker games.

“Mr Evans, nice to see you again.” Guillermo’s tongue rolled.

“Guillermo, come on no ceremony between us! I am sorry to see that your fortuity is still failing you since yesterday poker game. Lefty just suggested offering you the opportunity to rebuild at another poker table in a private salon.”

“I may … it depends on the pot limit.”

“Nothing out of your means, if you stay reasonable.”

“OK! Hey, Hermano, do you want to come and play with us?” asked Guillermo.

“No, mate, I’ll take my chance here. So far I’m winning, so I will keep on gambling while it last. Yet, you should go. We’ll see at the bar later.” Answered Freddie.

“Is this your partner at the airport, Guillermo?” said Chris with his endless smirk.

“Oh yes, may I introduce my buddy, Freddie Page.”

“Nice to meet you, Freddie.”

Chris offered him a firm hand.

“How do you do?” said Freddie who interrupted his game and warmly shook Chris’s hand, before throwing the dice to score another seven. This was a heaven-sent night.

From the corner of his eyes, Freddie discerned the two men disappearing. He kept tossing the dice and kept on being fortunate. More people showed up around the table to cheer him on, more women began to crowd around him. He was the center of attention and he reveared this spot. He smiled and laughed. His charm was obvious. Soon the funds he collected reached the maximum bid, so the croupier displayed his tokens into a box.

After a while he was defeated, the dice turned one exceeding time. A loud rumble of deception rose from the crowd. Freddie felt that the beginner’s luck might have left him, so he decided to take his gains and had a glass of champagne at the bar. He gracefully proposed the two beauties around him to escort them. Each one hung at his arms. The trio shamelessly flirted for a while.

A while after, a casino staff member discretely came to whisper into Freddie’s ear. He apologized and followed the man behind in a hallway to a backstage door. Guillermo stood in a minuscule backroom with three bruisers, the kind of men you didn’t wish to have trouble with. Freddie immediately understood something was off. In the other room, he could discern men sitting at a round table, playing poker, an empty chair next to Chris who sometimes peered at him.

“How much did you lose?” coldly asked Freddie.

“Everything and more!” a pity Guillermo answered

“Seriously, how much do you owe them?”

“Three months of income.”

“Goddamnit, Guillermo! At least do we still own the airport?”

“Yes, we do! But if I don’t repay them, I might have to give them the Boeing."

“Fuck!” He shouted, “That our biggest plane! You bugger! If you ever gamble something that belongs to both of us, I might just kill you myself! Do you understand? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” His face was red and his eyes burnt from rage.

“I am so sorry, Hermano! But I absolutely need your help.” Pleaded the Mexican.

“You must be a lucky bastard, after all, because tonight has been generous with me. I won at craps and I might have exactly the cash you need.”

“For real? Buddy you are saving my life.”

“Yes, I know!” At last, he smiled and laid his hands on his mate’s shoulders.

Five minutes after, Freddie watched his box of tokens emptied in front of him and was left with only a hundred dollars. That was still more than what he owned when he came in. The two friends exited the casino in a hurry without speaking to each other during the whole drive.

 

***

 

The next day, a cool shower was rewarding after spending the morning working on a jet engine that needed fixing. He also took care to wash the motor oil that filled under his nails. He inspected himself into the mirror and considered that he didn’t look honest enough for his appointment at the English Embassy in the beginning of the afternoon. So he drove to town and bought himself a new white shirt with a portion of his hundred dollars. He wasn’t the type of men who usually care about his look beyond the proper etiquette and the normal gentleman manners. He preferred to have fun and his natural magnetism was more than enough to attract kindness and attention. However, with Mrs Grant, his former neighbour, this was more crucial for him. He wanted to appear clean, more decent and serious. He cared, for once.

He entered in the white colonial building with confidence, walking straight to the lobby’s desk. He drew a scornful smirk to the old receptionist whom instead of eyeing him above her glasses, sent him back an outgoing grin.

“Good afternoon, Mr Page. I’ll call Mrs Grant to inform her of your presence straight away.” Said the English woman.

She was welcoming and accommodative. That was a huge improvement. He felt respected and composedly pull on his collar of his white shirt. He heard the elder woman phoning her manager and he was then invited to follow her to take place in the lounge. She offered him some tea, which he gladly accepted. He placed his panama hat on the closest armchair, unbuttoned his jacket and comfortably sat into the mellow sofa.

June sprang up out of her office and walked briskly on the balcony. She noticed Freddie manly installed in the lounge downstairs. He was staring at her impatient to talk to her. He gaze was intense; she felt it under her skin. It made her uncomfortable and pleasantly warm all together. She couldn’t help to stare him back. He smiled at her with his whole face. She discovered wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. She didn’t remember about those, they probably grew once he had left England. This sign of age suited him pretty well. It was even bloody sexy.

She finally stood in front of him, and he scanned her from head to toes. She was tall and slim, her elegant white tailored skirt flattered her silhouette. She looked glamorous and smart, warm and authoritative at the same time. He instantly rose up from his seat and kissed her hand. This gesture was more vibrant than the previous time. She felt it too.

The old receptionist disturbed them bringing the awaited teapot and cups with milk and sugar, an authentic English brew coupled with ginger biscuits. They were definitely on the Queen’s soil. June thought that Freddie was so different from abroad, he was towering, possibly more confident, and without a doubt more attractive. She never considered him that way.

“Do you take milk?” asked Freddie who poured the drinks.

“Yes, please, only a cloud. Would you prefer a glass of lemonade?” She answered emerging from her dream.

“Oh no, this is perfect. I haven’t drunk a nice tea in ages.” He said.

“I am glad that we are able to please you. There are traditions that English won’t forget even in Cuba.”

He seemed to wish to add a word, but he kept an embarrassed silence.

“I guess you are curious about your flying authorization.”

He shyly answered, “Yes.”

June opened the paper file she carried with her and took the only piece of paper it contained: an unsealed envelope with the Foreigner Affairs Ministry’s headers. Freddie carefully unfolded it.

“This is a signed and testified authorization. You can start to carry people in your planes. Congratulations, Mr Page!” She claimed in a bright smile.

Freddie was unbelievably happy and uncontrollably excited. He felt as a weight has been lifted away from his shoulder. He fidgeted on his chair as a kid.

“Oh June, thank you so much. You can’t imagine what it meant to me. I am so greatful. I’ll eternally be indebted to you. Let me do something to repay you?”

She laughed, “You don’t owe me anything. I am delighted to see you happy.”

“Just allow me to do something for you, please.”

“If you really insist, I would love to fly in a private plane and admire the Island from the sky.” She requested hoping he would agree.

“Oh, are you a bit reckless? I didn’t think you were that kind of woman. I would truly be honoured to have you on board. What about this Saturday?” he suggested.

She was surprised he accepted so easily and that she had an appointment so early, but she agreed.

“Excellent! I’ll come and get you at home at 6am on Saturday Morning for a little adventure.”

That sounded like a date.

“But you don’t know where I live.” She remarked.

“I’ll ask Mama Nita, she seems to love you like a daughter. I’m moving in on Friday.” He answered.

"I know. She told me when I saw her this week. I’m pleased you find a cosier place."

He was in a hurry to leave, as well as galvanized by the news. Joy transformed him into an energetic puppy. He stood up and put his panama on, ready to depart, his cup of tea half-full.

“I need to go and tell my partner that business is back on.” He hesitated awhile. He didn’t know if he should politely kiss her or shake her hands. At the end, he held her refined hand into both his long and lithe hands.

“Of course, I’ll see you Saturday,” she almost yelled while he was running away. He stopped and turned to watch her once more.

“On Saturday, you may need to wear practical shoes.”

“For flying?”

He grinned and winked. “No Darling, I intended to make you walk.”

“Do you already have a scheme in mind?” she giggled.

“Wait and see…”

He swirled his back and after a few steps, he stood still. He ran back to June and genuinely hugged her into his arms, close to him.

“June, many thanks again for your help. I’ll promise we’ll have a marvellous Saturday.”

Astonished, she watched him swiftly cleared out the Embassy without hesitation this time. She remained with genuine smile on her lips. His joyfulness was so contagious and spontaneous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: smut in the next chapter…  
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: Here is the following chapter of the sequel of “The Deep Blue Sea.” With more on Freddie, his partner Guillermo and the CIA agent, Chris Evans. Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIC SUMMARY: June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

The sun hadn’t even risen, and someone was already knocking on June’s door. However, even in the early hours of the morning, she was expecting it, and had been ready to go for a while. In spite of her early wake up at 5 am, she was excited about her Saturday. This was stimulating, she hadn’t felt so light for ages. The previous evening, Freddie left a note in her letterbox with requirements and advises for the day, so she was a good girl and respected every request. Comfortable shoes, a swimsuit, and also sheer clothes seemed to be the crucial points. She slipped on her old tweed coat from London, warm and casual clobber in case of the plane’s cabin would be windy. 

In any case, she just needed a few seconds to grab her sunglasses, and shove them into her pocket. Stopping to take a look at herself into the mirror, she rearranged her hair, pinched out her cheekbones to add a rosy shade and batted her eyelashes to check her mascara. Perfect! At last, she walked to answer the door.

Under her porch, Freddie’s silhouette was highlighted by his car’s headlights. Leaning his shoulder on a white column, he contemplated the street and  leisurely smoked. Tall, dark and handsome were the first words that struck to her mind. Yet, the eerie expression was promptly replaced by a large beaming smile when he turned to see her. He was irresistible. She suddenly comprehended what Hester might have felt. Along this idea, came the memory of her own crestfallen expectations and her own burden. 

“Good Morning, June. Are you ready to leave?” he sounded elated. 

“Yes, I am. I’m actually looking forward to flying, but I’m also a tad scared. It’s my first time in a private plane.”

“You don’t have to worry. I am a competent pilot for your information!”

“Oh, I’m sure about that. I’m not afraid of you!”

“I’m relieved, because you shouldn’t. I won’t make any dangerous moves unless you ask me to.”

“That’s reassuring. I was frightened you would try to impress me.”

“Maybe I will. However to start, you should relax and enjoy the drive to the airport. I will take the ocean road, so you will be able to see the sunrise over the horizon. That should only be the beginning of the day!” He teased.

Was it only a simple compensation for a service, or a date with the full romanticism? Perhaps she shouldn’t expect too much and just appreciate the occasion for once. Today she was off-duty after all.

Freddie opened the car door for her, and she jumped into the jeep. He apologised for the absence of a roof explaining that the top was torn away. He hoped she wouldn’t be cold. June ignored the morning briskness as soon as they reached the coast. The moon was reflecting on the ocean, and as the sky gradually grew paler, water blended into purple colours that faded into pink. They were driving east toward the sun peeking out from the horizon. She had been living in Cuba for several years, yet she never contemplated this spectacle before. Freddie—his face locked on the road—was time to time checking on her from the corner of his eye to observe her reaction. Discretely, he smiled content with the effect this first moment of the day had on her. Eyes wide open, she was scrutinising the view, glowing. She really was beautiful with her coat’s popped collar, her thin nose piercing right above. Her auburn hair fluttered in the wind and the marvellous colours of the sky were shining through. She was sweet and vibrant. Certainly one of the most gracious creatures he ever saw. He might have said that to a previous woman—Hester. But this time it felt truer, so he kept that to himself, as he remembered that June was friends with her.

They travelled on the same road for 20 minutes longer until they discerned a concrete building cutting the base of the sky. The airport was composed of a large hangar, a modest wooden outhouse as offices, and a control tower at the end of the field. Everything was surrounded by palm trees and a luxuriant vegetation. The airstrips were displayed parallel to the sea.

***  

June couldn’t stay quiet. This escapade was bloody exciting, and Freddie was a reliable partner. The reluctance she held against him subsided, and opened her eyes to a charming and outgoing gentleman. He was undoubtedly stunning, but an aspect commanded June to remain suspicious. In fact, in the past, she had comprehended Hester and her passion for a young and compelling man, although she knew the guilt and pain that come with it. She endured them herself and she didn’t wish to fall again. However Freddie with his gentle and obliging manners set her at ease. She forgot everything and she loosened in this unfamiliar men’s world, a world of steel and motor oil. She also remembered the way he held her in his arms is such a spontaneous move, just to thank her, as a tall kid, yet a gesture not very appropriate between adults.

Freddie had chosen to fly with an old jet, a Piper J-3, a light aircraft nowadays only used for training and fun. The plane looked shiny and newly cleaned. Freddie took care of all the preparation, while June was sipping a coffee that Mama Nita made for them in a thermos. He helped her putting a parachute on, placed a basket with the picnic into the aeroplane, and explained the basic safety requirements, but refused to tell her where they were heading.

Sitting in the cockpit with her seatbelt and a headset on, she watched everywhere around her. She was locked into this tiny space, yet everything outside was so vast and different. The hanger reminded her of the war, but the green trees, the blue sea and the former young soldier were more interesting and enliven than those sad years. Freddie took his place in the seat in front of her and closed the glass top over them. He briefly checked behind him.

“How’s everything on your side? Are you ready to go? Still not even a little bit afraid?”

“No, not at all. Actually, I am terribly excited by all this.”

“I like to hear that!” He put his headgear on and asked, “Can you hear me through this?”

“Roger, I copy!” 

He laughed, “You are allowed to talk normally, unless you’re experienced enough to pilot instead of me.”

“Oh no, Lieutenant, I let you control the stick! Shall we go now?”

“Yes ma’am, at your service ma’am!” He joked.

Cuba from above was more outstanding than she imagined. They flew south of La Havana. June could contemplate the city rimmed by the sea, and the “Capitalo’s” white dome was sparkling under the sun. On her left, an extensive valley with tropical forests or fields cultivated with coffee, tobacco, sugarcane or bananas stretched out of sight.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful! Thank you so much. Do you still not want to tell me where we are going? I can’t escape anymore you know.”

“Hehehe, Soroa, in the Artemisia’s province.” He answered.

“The rainbow of Cuba? Really? I never had the time to go there.”

“Honestly? I like the idea that your first time there will be with me.”

June felt a tremendous sensation of freedom, something she rarely experienced in the past. The world had no limit, an overwhelming landscape, with a lush nature endlessly spreading under her. She was able to contemplate the Mogotes of the west of Cuba in Pinar Del Rio. However Soroa was only 60 miles south of la Havana, the Piper went round by Viñales so they could view the steep-sided hills. 

Freddie touched down on some private property, a coffee farm that had its own landing area. The countryman—Guillermo’s friend—was surprised to see his English pal accompanied by a lady, nevertheless he received them as old friends. 

The sun was currently high in the sky, and the ground temperature was hotter than in the clouds. They both left their coats in the cockpit. They decided to wear something lighter, a blue T-shirt for Freddie and a pastel green sleeveless blouse for June. Their good shoes will enable them to walk to Soroa’s waterfalls in less than an hour. The coffee farm stood at the border of a dense tropical forest. The heat and heavy vegetation loaded the air with mist. So the sun danced with the suspended drops created a full and beautiful rainbow. The end of the rainbow created the illusion that seemed to mark the goal of their hiking and confirmed Soroa’s name.

They had to climb a hill through the forest on a small path dug by footprints. Every variety of trees, plants and tropical flowers could be spotted. A lot of orchids with intoxicating fragrance vivified their stroll. The scent contrasted much with La Havana with its blistering bitumen smell, and the noise of the crowd in the street. The most remarkable thing was indeed the deep silence. You could just hear birds singing and leaves shaking under the rare breeze. Soroa was a haven of peace.

The hill was a little steep, so Freddie helped June to avoid stones and tree roots. She gave up her control and let him guide. He knew where he was going. He offered a strong and secure hand, his arms were like shaped marble, muscular. Those muscles stretched the T-shirt as did his shoulders and torso. After an hour of walking, they arrived at a turquoise pool, surrounded by a bed of moss, filled by a 65-foot waterfall that overlapped the rocks. The freshness of the water was perceptible in the air, and it was welcomed especially after this sweaty ascent. Standing at Freddie’s side, contemplating this magnificent gift of Mother Nature, she felt his strength, his presence was emphasised by this forceful and untamed nature. This was breathtaking and even romantic. He had planned a picnic at the bottom of this paradise. 

Everything seemed effortless for him, every situation was obvious, every gesture was natural. He simply was blithe. June was amazed by his confidence and definitely charmed by his kindness. She felt laid-back as she has even been since a long time with a man. There was no pressure, no danger. Nothing betrayed how much caution and care he applied with her. He instinctively understood she didn’t have to be pushed, he knew what he was doing. His intention was clear, although he made it sound genuine. He wouldn’t rush her and would be patient.

Sitting on a big rock on the side of the lake, they relished delicious tapas and fruits cooked for them by Mama Nita. The waterfalls agitated the silence of the forest with its relaxing hum. The conversation coupled with wine was light and easygoing. 

“Why did you come in Cuba?” asked Freddie with eyes ready to capture her answer.

“I was just offered an excellent position here and I accepted. I considered this country was as good as any. Why? Do you think Cuba is a strange choice?”

“No, it doesn’t,” he paused to collect his thoughts, “… I just never met a woman like you. Are you aware that you are a surprising English lady?”

She giggled, “Why, because I work in Cuba?”

“No, you are only different than I remembered you. You were more composed at that time. Do you miss London sometimes?”

“I don’t know…” she stopped and added, “Actually I recall England as a jail.” 

A shadow crossed her eyes, her face closed. She suddenly turned so earnest. 

“Indeed?” he said concerned.

“Yes. I guess I’m liberated here. In England, I always dreamt for more. More than what a proper social life had to offer a woman. Expecting this freedom, I may have chosen a hazardous path that I shouldn’t have taken. I may have caused my own imprisonment. However life saved some surprises up her sleeve, and gave me a new opportunity with odder possibilities. Cuba is probably one of those. I keep on serving my country, but I am more independent than before.” 

“I understand. I reckon to survive alone in London as a war widow wasn’t that easy. But it wasn’t your fault.” Commented Freddie.

“It’s more complicated than that. Initially, I got married because I expected that being a spouse and an adult would set me free from my parent’s grip. My husband, Kenneth, was a decent man, gentle and caring, yet I didn’t love him. Of course, I found out that this marriage was another kind of prison, and somehow I felt relieved that Ken died. Although I shouldn’t say that.”

Freddie intensely stared at her, but his gaze wasn’t pitiful or judgemental as she used to face. It was different, as if, in a way, he cared and he understood.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “this is embarrassing and I don’t want to spoil the day.”

“You don’t have to apologise. I also met a woman trapped in her own couple.” Confessed Freddie.

“Hester! She told me about your story.”

“Well, Hester was an amazing woman, but I wasn’t able to love her as she deserved. I made so many mistakes back then. I stole what wasn’t mine and I didn’t take care of her. We hurt each other, for sure. South America was the solution I found to end all that.” Sadly said Freddie.

“Hester didn’t forget you. Today she alright, she got her divorce and works in a public library in James’s Square. We often write.”

“Did you tell her about me in Cuba?” asked Freddie.

“No … and I don’t think I should.”

Freddie didn’t say anything, and his eyes got lost somewhere into the horizon. She scanned him, his wavy hair shining under the sun, his cerulean gaze, his muscles and chest shaped like a Greek god, his long hand lying on his chiselled thighs. She couldn’t deny anymore that she was captivated by him. She now understood Hester more than ever. Yet, what could she tell her? That Freddie was doing fine without her! That he was more gorgeous and captivating that she remembered! That she was attracted by him! 

“June, I was hoping we could swim, but I am afraid that we should leave right away.”

“Did I say anything wrong?” She anxiously asked.

“Not at all! You were extraordinary, so honest and adorable. There’s just a storm coming in our way. Look over there… We should leave before being caught by the rain.” He pointed out menacing grey clouds west in the sky.

***

Fortunately, they were fast enough not to get knocked over by the storm.  They reached the tobacco plantation and landed the plane before the heavens opened up. The gods of weather were coming down on them. The sky was daunting, rain was pouring down like cats and dogs. And it wasn’t domestic pets, but Caribbean wildlife. Freddie had difficulties to see through the windscreen. The wipers were frenetically trying to do their task, but the downfall was mightier. It managed to spread everywhere into the jeep. Freddie’s hair was soppy and water permeated under his collar and ran on his back. His eyelashes were glued by the raindrops. He constantly wiped his eyes with his sleeves. June burrowed into her jacket, her head covered, yet the tropical shower penetrated through the fabric, which turned out to be useless. She admired with wonder this display of force and fury. Nothing could ruin this great day, a day busy with new experiences and thrills.

Over the ocean, thunder multiplied and cut the horizon in two. This raging environment wasn’t able to stop Freddie’s concentration. He drove fast but cautiously. He just wanted to bring June safely back to La Havana. He repeated endless apologies for the broken top. 

This was real. She actually was there at that moment like a wild living creature at her rightful place. After the hundredth Freddie pitiful excuse, she burst into laughter. This was crazy and exhilarating. She lifted her hands above the window and felt the cool rain dropping on her face, and the wind brushing her hair. The road was bumpy and muddy but she couldn’t careless. Freddie looked at her and smiled. God, she was fabulous! He indicated the outline of the city. They were nearly there.

They drove through the deserted streets, where only a couple of big American cars tried their luck under this weather. The other drivers sheltered under their steel rooftop peered at the soaked pair with disbelief. She was tempted to pull out the tongue, but finally behaved like an adult. 

Freddie parked the jeep in front of June’s house, and they rushed to the door. They were still giggling as she searched for her keys.

“Come inside with me.” She offered, “You are completely soaked. I will give you dry towels and make you a cup of tea.”

“Tea! You know how to speak to my heart.” He joked.

“I have whiskey, too. If you’d prefer.” She grinned.

She hurled her coat on the floor of the entryway. She motioned him to leave his next to hers. A few minutes later, she reappeared from the bathroom with towels and blankets hanging on her forearms. He stared at her. Her green blouse was drenched and stuck to her breasts allowing a white lace bra to peek through. She was bewitching.

June saw his chest lifting his T-shirt at every inhalation. The blue T-shirt came across as a second skin designing each muscle. This man was incredibly sexy and obviously attracted by her. She was aware of the effect she caused on men, but it was the only time she actually felt as a true woman since long. She almost forgot the sensation to be watched like the most precious person on earth. 

Freddie made a move closer to her. He caught her by the neck and savagely pulled her to him. He kissed her, locking her mouth with his. He possessed her tongue without any threshold. She let the towels dropped out of her hands, and she clung to his wet T-shirt. No drying for them. She wandered her hands on his shivering skin and lifted the fabric above his head. She only figured out that her blouse was unbuttoned when it joined the T-shirt on the floor. They hastily caressed each other. Urgency invaded them. They needed to quench an irresistible thirst. She found herself pinned against the wall naked and covered with his bare athletic figure. She moaned and tried to breathe. She couldn’t control her will and her body anymore, yet her anatomy knew what it was doing, and so did her partner. He lifted her leg around his waist, and his fingers dug into her thighs. He kissed and gently bit her nipples. A brief cry escaped her lips.

“Where is your bedroom?” His husky voice uttered.

“At the end of the hall.” She whispered to his ear. Instinctively, she licked his shoulder, benignly planting her teeth into his smooth flesh. 

Freddie grabbed her under her butt and carried her. Their mouths met again. She glided her fingers in his hair and tugged his blonde curls. He practically let her fall out of his hands, so they needed to take a pause against the wall. She clenched her thighs stronger around him, her hips swaying on his belly. He could feel her dripping and warm against his hardening cock. He could have had her now, her body was begging for him. Moreover, he wanted her so badly. He ached to touch her and to savour her. Her kisses tasted like vanilla and her skin as cream. She was so sweet. He wanted to eat her. His desire was like starvation, a permanent hunger. He wasn’t able to think about anything else.

Again he took her into his arms and finally managed to bring her to the bed. He looked into her eyes. The shiny water green tumult he found was only consent and longing. Lustfully, he started to kiss every inch of her skin, brushing her neck, her breasts and her navel. He nibbled her thighs. She closed her eyes and let her body sink into the feather bed. She got goosebumps under his nimble fingers.

At last, he tasted her pussy, played with his tongue on her clit, lapped up her juice, a salty caramel tantalising flavour that only made him craved for more. She sealed her hips to his expert mouth, swaying under each lick and each kiss. She wept, and he could feel her muscles tensed. She found her balance with a palm on the headboard and the other on his head. His two hands around her waist firmly hold her on the bed. She let herself come. The caresses were so wonderful and intense, that her belly was burning. This heat invaded her and waved up on her. 

She was breathless and still misty into her pleasure, but the tender kisses didn’t stop. Freddie drew closer to kiss her mouth over and over. He slipped a hand behind her nape and lifted her up to his forehead. They stared at each other and he pleaded with the deep voice

 “More!”

She nodded yes and stroked a finger on his torso and his abs. She seized his cock, long, hard, but silky and warm. He moaned when she held it. She guided it to her slit. She teased her clit with the tip of his thick length. Quickly, she slid it to her entrance. He groaned. Her pupils dilated. Slowly he penetrated her. She welcomed him. Her inner walls felt every inch. Rapidly, he rocked into her, his eyes still locked onto hers. He swallowed her reaction, caught every of her moans while his cock pounded her with lust. He could feel her vagina vibrating around him. Her heels dug into his butt. His balls hammered her pelvis at each back and forth. He frantically reached for his own climax. Nevertheless, he could feel that she would shortly come once more. So he held on, wanting it to last, wishing to see her sublime face again. Yet, the feeling was so powerful that as soon as he sensed her inner muscle taut, he roared and savoured his orgasm like an explosion. He collapsed on her as an exhausted horse at the end of a race. 

After a moment he rolled on his side and lay next to her. His cock was still stiff and up along his belly. She fondled his chin and jaws, and delicately kissed his nose. With her eyes half-closed, she languidly asked

“Do you still fancy a cup of tea?”

He beamed at her and smiled. His smile was wide and absolutely mesmerising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: oral sex, penetration. 
> 
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: Freddie and June will this happen? Is it possible? Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the 50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

She was going to panic. She could sense a ball of angst inside her stomach and her nerves under her skin like an anthill in action. She was forcefully blowing a puff of smoke, trying to get some peace. She swept the smog away from her face with an energetic wave of her hand, standing naked in front of the window. The small patio of her house was flooded by the city lights. The storm had passed, and the heated garden’s pavers evaporated in a kind of mist. Everything was so calm, even the breathing of Freddie asleep in the bed. His fist was tightly closed. He was lying on his side and faced the empty space she left in the sheets. Her core squeezed, and a contented smile reached her lips, but it faded out as soon as arrived.

For a moment, she experienced this freedom, this bliss she was seeking for all her life. This was real. This man made her feel worthy and cherished. He made her bloom into a woman, sexual and embodied. Every piece of her was set on fire under his touch. She wasn’t this ghost anymore, the one who walks through existence without control. She felt this desire, this longing, this lust that she had felt before, but not to this extent. This feeling she would crave for an eternity. Mind-blowing sex had turned her into a greedy sinful girl who wanted more and only craved him.

Regardless, how high would be the price to pay? Because there’s always some restitution, and she previously gave her share. She contributed heavily, more than one should. Men had been her curse. Her husband—Kenneth—deplorably loved her. He buried her under gifts and did everything for her, so much, that she couldn’t do anything by herself. He wished to spare her, so he spoiled her. She was overprotected and lived in a meaningless golden jail. Kenneth never really knew her. He never figured out what she wanted. He displayed her as his perfect wife in

his own perfect life. And him, the other man—Matthew, the photographer—he talked to her, saw her and touched her. He found her attractive and mysterious. He took pictures of her and unveiled her intimacy. She revealed herself under his objective, in his studio and into his bed. He had awakened her. She discovered a side of her that needed to flourish. Nonetheless she encountered jealousy of the other birds, Matthew’s mistresses. She experienced lies, cheating and betrayals. Matthew juggled with her heart, she played with Kenneth’s, and at the end everybody died: both men and the true woman in her. She couldn’t tell that to anyone, even to this male version of sleeping beauty.

Freddie eventually opened her up, and she didn’t want to hide again. Yet, he had the power to break her. Right now, she couldn’t decide whether she should throw him out of her house or joined him under the sheets. Accordingly, she stood deadpan watching the night with her cigarette burning down in her fingers.

Her thoughts were interrupted by light switched on in the room. Freddie sat against the headboard of the bed with the table lamp on. He stared at her, completely naked with her back exposed to his eyes.

“Turn off the light, please.” She said.

“Why should I? I have an ideal view. Are you aware how gorgeous you are?”

She didn’t answer and nervously stubbed out her ciggie in the ashtray. Immediately, she took her cigarette pack from the top of the drawers next to her and she lit up another one with a silver lighter.

“Can I have one too?” he asked.

“Yes. Ready to catch, Batsman?”

She pitched him the packet and the lighter, and he seized them one by one with a lithe hand. The muscles of his arms taut and the flame sparkled in his eyes.

“Great toss, Bowler!” He smirked, “Batsman? Any innuendo about my generous attributes?”

She drew a little grin before returning her gaze to the patio. “Boastful!”

“At least, I was able to make you smile.”

She was desperately trying to ignore him, but he was everywhere. He remained silent, peering at her. She could feel his eyes on her, and shivers went down her spine.

“The rain had stopped.” She said to fill the space.

She didn’t hear him stand up as he walked to reduce the distance between them. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her back against him. She tensed at this contact, so he held her tighter. His chin laid on her shoulder. His cigarette half-burnt was pursed between his lips. He mumbled

“June, is there anything wrong?”

She took a last drag of her ciggie and extinguished it in the nearest ashtray. She pivoted to him and withdrew his out of his mouth. It rallied hers into the tray. He didn’t break his hold, so the heat of his skin launched more quivers into her belly. She lost the battle, she knew it and would perpetually be defeated. Of course, he realised he had won, he would claim her, claim his reward. He was confident and beaming. He pridefully kissed her. He would worship her and please her as a woman deserves. Although this was an unquestionable gentleman’s role, he could guess that she merited this more than any others. Something challenged him, a sort

of hidden fragility that moved him, paired with a visible strength that pushed him to want her, to possess her. His heart compelled him to take her, and his dick didn’t argue. If he had any reason left, his dick was deaf to it and definitely followed its own uncontrollable will.

She let herself melt into his arms, under his intense kiss and his adventurous touch. Her fears vanished, her mind shut up. Only the sensation in her body prevailed. Freddie could do whatever he wanted with her, at that instant she trusted him.

Once more, Freddie slid behind her still cradling her. She was the same woman that he stared at some minutes ago. He was fondling her butt and cupping her firm voluptuous breasts with the memory of her naked silhouette that the penumbra shaped in front of the window. He kissed her nape smoothly. His fingers danced on her skin to spellbind her. He seized her throat and taut his grip. He nibbled her delicate flesh and made her his. His cock pressed between her cheeks. Her legs trembled, she offered herself to this attentive and dangerous man.

His right hands found a path over her navel to her trimmed pussy and between her thighs. He teased her, yet she was already wet and warm. This was nearly too easy.

“June, you are mine!” He asserted with a husky voice. “Now, make me yours!”

She was disgruntled as he broke his touch, but he guided her to the bed, hand in hand. He didn’t plan his action, yet something deep pushed him to let her lead. This mighty woman had to be unleashed and he needed to show her that he trusted. He lied on the mattress and took her in his arms leaning her on him. He slowly pecked the surface of her lips and followed this gentle caress with a finger,

brushing the thin skin with her wetness left on his hands. He licked her and profoundly tasted her. She returned this passionate kiss, begging for it, mauling his curly hair between her fingers. Her body was quaking in expectation, her core was burning, she needed to feel his cock in her, this plumb cock wobbling between her leg.

Keeping June enclosed to him, he fondled her back and bottom while he sat on the bed, with her on his lap. They licked, caressed and moaned! She held him closer, her hard nipples stroking his skin. He framed her face with his palm and stopped a kiss to whisper,

“I want to look at you again.”

He leaned back alone on the pillow and strolled two fingers on her shoulder over her curves, circling her breasts with his thumb. She blushed when she perceived his desire, the ardour that his whole being expressed.

“Oh my orchid, you are stunning. You don’t have to be that shy. I just ache for you. I want you to take your pleasure from me. Ride me!”

She craved for him as he craved for her, so she didn’t think. Her knees placed on each side of his hips, she lifted herself and then downed onto his shaft. Every inch of his length voluptuously settled into her. Their gazes were locked while they savoured this new connection and grinned. She could relish his whole body as her fingers traced the outline of each muscle, from his pecs to his abs. He wasn’t as hairy as her previous men, but the fine line of his hair drew a tantalising path. She could sense his silky skin more intensely. She began to sway her hips on him. She was searching for the perfect angle, seeking for her pleasure. He peered at her, at her heavy breast swinging. He kneaded her butt and help her move with his

hands on her waist. Her back and forth rubbed his tightly wrapped cock. Her butt cheeks regularly hit his balls.

She finally stretched out across on him, stroking her breast on his chest. She thieved his lips, and rocked her body over and over. His hips followed her pace and frantically increase the fever, pounding in her body. The base of his shaft fondled her clit. The sound of their bodies banging together echoed on the walls. She came violently on him, tensing her legs and body. She let a cry escape her mouth. He paused his movements to allow her to enjoy her climax. Once he sensed she was coming down, he began to hammer into her again. She encouraged him and after a few more long and hard strokes, she reached ecstasy one more time, even heftily. He was on the edge to let go, but she was the person in control, so he needed her permission.

“Are you OK?” he breathed.

“Hmm,” she nodded, “Come with me, please.”

The same motion, the same rhythm, frenetic, passionate launched them mutually to a powerful orgasm.

She collapsed on him, exhausted, elated. They both giggled and panted. He cocooned her on him again, pulling her head on his comforting chest. He switched off the bedside lamp, and they gradually fell asleep, binding together.

The next day, June came around with the first light of the morning, revived by a soft sensation of a caress on her shoulder. She meditatively opened her lids to discover the other side of the bed deserted. However she heard a low voice muttering into her ear.

“Hey, my sleepy orchid. I’m sorry to wake you up. Unfortunately I have to go to work. Sunday is a busy day for a touristy airport, and I shouldn’t miss it.”

“I understand,” she bumbled still drowsy.

“You may stay in Wonderland, I’ll see you later.” He kissed the crook of her neck, and then snuck away when she fell into her dreams again.

 

***

Past the storms of the weekend, Monday was a sultry day and it was only the beginning of the summer. June didn’t meet Freddie. She almost believed she had fantasised their time together. However, her sore body and his late phone call brought her back to reality. Sunday at the airport was tied up, and he had to fly in the evening to transport a last couple to Santiago.

Today, she tried hard not to think about him. She wished to concentrate on her work but the temperature, the boredom of her task and her brain didn’t obey her. She aspired to hide, to flee, to avoid him for the rest of her life. Nevertheless she yenned for smelling him, touching him, kissing him, and whatever her body would lead her to do over and over again. She remembered his eyes and each part of his body. Her belly twitched at every thought, yet she got scared.

At the beginning of the afternoon, a flower bouquet was delivered for her: twelve pink sword lilies. June’s heart jumped into her chest. Was he that kind of man—the kind you read about in fairy tales? The one that covers you with present and small attention, who shows he cares, secures you and could claim you all, together? Her husband looked after her, yet he wasn’t strong enough to make her feel safe. Her secret lover made her believe he treasured her, but he didn’t mind.

What about Freddie? He was Hester’s ex-partner after all. He didn’t need to send her presents to seduce her anymore. She was already obsessed with him. Still, she unwrapped the small envelope and read:

Invite him to the Ambassador’s birthday party, this Friday night.

Bugger! Of course, Clifton knew! And he was going to take advantage of the situation. Freddie had to be introduced to influential people. He lacked connection. He had to get closer to his future targets, and she could provide him those major acquaintances. She should have guessed that the flowers came from Clifton. No detail was left apart. Sword lilies meant remembrance and honour. In reality, she was requested to focus on her duty. Well, he chose for her. She had to see Freddie again, and she was happy about that. If everything turned wrong, that wouldn’t be her fault this time.

The workload demanded her attention, but she didn’t manage to get her balance back. She strained to control things. Yet, she couldn’t prevent from worrying about him. What if he’d discover who she was, what she was hiding? What if he believed that she messed with him when she didn’t? She was trustworthy. Admittedly, she couldn’t tell him everything, it was too risky.

She had to keep her job in mind, focus on her target. First, get rid of the note. She burnt it with her lighter, and threw it into one of the Embassy’s fireplace. Next, she sat at her desk and started to smoke. Cross-legged, she seized a file at the top of the pile, and initiated to check it: another annoying report about the projection on nickel’s needs for the English automotive industry. She managed to read the first 10 pages, but stopped to get a glass of water she half drunk as to give her courage. Later she opened a drawer to take one of the leftover invitations for Friday night’s event. On the back of it, she drafted with a meticulous handwriting:

Dear Freddie,

Would you like to escort me? I might be able to introduce you to future travellers. A tuxedo will be shipped to you this Thursday.

June.

PS: Honestly, I need a decent partner to dance with.

She didn’t know how to finish this letter. Nothing seemed appropriate. She wrote Mama Nita’s address on the envelope and, at the end, put it with the post.

The rest of the week inertly flew. She expected news from him, yet he remained silent. She loathed those days. She felt out of herself. Obviously, now that he had what he wanted, he had no reason to call back. Typical! Perhaps he had a problem, an accident. He was working for Clifton from now on. She had thought to go to Mama Nita’s guesthouse and pretend to visit Shirley, yet no one would be duped. She couldn’t use her usual contacts: the barmaids, cloakroom ladies, dancers or croupier—only women—for sure, they would have noticed him, but she would have put his cover in danger. She was foolish, she knew. She hated herself to let a man have so much leverage over her. She was tired to be hurt by men. She should stop behaving like a schoolgirl and work, only work.

She had precisely invited him for work, but this move might make her look like a desperate woman. Even after that, he didn't dare to answer or call.

On Thursday evening, she was about to fall asleep when her telephone rang. She slid on her silk dressing gown and hurried into the corridor to lift the Bakelite receiver off the hook.

“¡Hola”

“Evening, June! My orchid, am I awaking you?” asked Freddie.

“No!” She briefly answered. As this plonker finally found the courage to call, she wouldn't allow him to think she was a loose woman.

As though he would slip on her frosty tone, he vigilantly went on “I apologised not to have called you earlier. I had so much work at the airport. Guillermo appeared to have accepted three times more undertakings than usual. It might be a way to make me pay back for my weeks of grounding. I have just arrived at the pension.”

“I understand and believe you. But maybe you aren't aware of this very useful invention called a telephone? ” She said absently. She needed to keep control, he had to make some more of an effort.

"I apologize unreservedly. I have no excuse. Would you forgive me?" He pleaded.

"I will think about it."

“Please, could I still accompany you at this party? Let me make amends. Actually, I received your invitation and the tuxedo, and it suited me marvellously. You shouldn’t have, I will reimburse you.”

“Well, I supposed it would be an opportunity for you to meet new costumer.” She nearly affably answered. Yet, she could help to smile imagining him standing in the shared lounge of Mama Nita’s house, where everyone walked by you and you couldn’t have any privacy.

“You are so thoughtful. I could also prove I worth your time and trust on Saturday, if you have nothing planned. Maybe you could show me the town

around.” However, his tone was hesitant as he perceived her discomfort, “June, do you wish to spend Saturday with me?”

She paused and ultimately blew out "Yes!" Damn! She was so weak, but she couldn't resist him.

He sighed, “Wonderful!” Then he whispered in the speaker, “I have to confess that I missed you.”

“I missed you too, and I would love to sightsee around the city with you. We will be on my field, this time.”

“That sounds promising.” He laughed.

“Tomorrow evening, could you come and get me at 9 o’clock? A car from the Embassy will drive us to the Sans-Soucis.”

“You can count on me, I’ll be there. We’ll see tomorrow. Good night, my sweet orchid.”

“Good night, Lieutenant”

 

To be continued...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIC SUMMARY: June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the ’50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises. 
> 
> RATING: M/NSFW+18 
> 
> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: No sex in this chapter

Peggy Lee’s melodious voice was coming out of the record player of the living room, a mellow tune, a sweet lust to have “Black Coffee” that June was humming this late afternoon. She was sitting at her kitchen table wrapped in her dressing gown, her hair was still slightly wet and curls were set in place with clips. The kitchen had the best light and appropriated chairs for her task. A little mirror stood on the table, high enough to allow to see herself, and put her make-up on. Brushes, sponges, creams, powders, liquid colours, crayons and eye liners were thrown all over. Today, the girl that looked back at her in the mirror wasn’t a ghost, but an animate creature, a real woman who wasn’t just getting ready for a plain social event. Yet, she took care of her for a sexy man. She needed this man eyes on her. She wanted to seduce him. She craved to be desired. It felt important to perform these special gestures for someone intimate. She enjoyed her reflection for once. 

She applied foundation to brighten up her cleaned skin. She delicately stroked her face with a sponge to obtain an equal complexion. In spite of her excitation for the night, she relaxed and sensed her muscles loosen. She added a shred of liquid Cheek Rouge, to outline her cheekbones and temples with a pale rosy shade. A final touch of powder gave her a healthy and pure look. She removed the excess with a brush, and the smell tickled her nostrils. This baby powder fragrance was soothing. She chose a silver-green tint to stretch out her emerald eyes. She put it on her fourth finger and painted her eyelid in subtle shadows. With an eyebrow pencil, she drew her brows, long and high. She finalised her maquillage with a dark brown crayon to deepen her stare and design profound cat eyes. She ended the torture by bending her eyelash with a curling tongs, comb them and added mascara. Then, she outlined the contour of her lips and, with a thin brush, coloured them in a bright scarlet-red, a matching shade with her nails. 

She was ready. The hardest step was accomplished. She came across as natural and graceful. It was a miracle that she put on so many products and managed to appear effortlessly charming. Great, her goal was a discreet sophistication. 

She recalled her mother sempiternal recommendations, “A woman should be poised to face every situation. High English society wishes her to be a pleasure for the eye, but her beauty should be contained and reasonable. She should constantly remember her education and stayed at her designated place.” Henceforth, her mother was an old lady and she doesn’t speak with her daughter anymore, as the rest of the family. Yet, June was convinced that modern time provided the possibility for women to express themselves. And in terms of beauty, they should attend to be decent and breath taking. 

After a last look into the mirror, she shoved her tool kit in her toiletries bag. This late summer afternoon was sultry. She needed a cool drink before sliding into her dress. She poured herself a glass of lemonade straight from the fridge, and carried it with her in the living room. Records were randomly displayed on the floor next to the player. She avoided them and turned Peggy Lee album to B-side. She warbled the first notes of “A Woman Alone With the Blues” and pumped up the volume. Afterwards, she walked to her bedroom with her glass in hand. 

She threw her dressing gown on her bed. Her reflection into the psyche wasn’t disappointing. Despite the absolute discomfort of her girdle from “lily of France,” the black silk and lace lingerie drew delicate lines that emphasise her thin waist and curved body. She was tall and everything was at its right place. She wasn’t a twenty-year-old girl anymore, but a decade left her inborn figure and charm unaltered. However, during that period she was absent, she lived as an automaton following a programme. Her work was the only compelling activity that gave her a little thrill. Sadly, her body didn’t receive any attention, especially from a man. 

Her thoughts brought her back to her Saturday with Freddie, to his stare when he watched her. She felt as the most sumptuous woman in the universe. He pierced through her soul. He seemed to constantly study her, as the most captivating subject. Without a doubt, all of her curves and freckles were a matter to be learned. He was also memorising every one of her movements. How could she miss being undressed by the look of this man that much? Tonight, she intended he would keep this gaze. Her silhouette was flawless in this attire, but the girdle would be a bit of a challenge to unlace. Pleasure request patience! 

Years ago, she had been getting ready for another pair of eyes, the green stare of her photographer. Matthew made her feel desirable. She had anticipated every minute spent with him. He taught her how to be a woman, how to seize the day, how to succumb to her body’s will and how to seek for her own pleasure. She had believed she was loved, but she couldn’t suspect how much she was wrong. He betrayed her and he died, with her husband. 

Nowadays, she was dreaming of somebody else. She was a new woman, in another country. She was free to relish the company of a man and to ache for his touch. She gradually set foot into her black silk stockings. The Caribbean climate wasn’t adapted for trendy nylon accessories. The fabric was cold and soft against her skin. She imagined nimble fingers crawling on her legs, launching chills and waking her sensations. The satiny stocking draped her leg with a gentle feeling of sexiness. She felt erotic. She felt tantalising. She buttoned the thin material into her garter belt and started this magical ritual on the second leg. More electricity invaded her. She remembered his hungry face, chin taut, when he kissed her and licked her pussy. Hotness grew in her core which tensed. She burned to touch and smell him again. 

Her surah evening dress hanging behind the door brought her attention back out from her daydreaming. It was enwrapped into a slipover embroidered with golden letters: Christian Dior. Her position at the Embassy enabled her to pay for such luxury, because it depended on that kind of elegance and presence—old-fashioned marketing. She admired this fabulous piece of clothes, a dreamy fairytale dress, but a gown for a modern princess, someone like Grace Kelly who married the Prince of Monaco two months ago. Strapless, the top wedded her shapeliness down to her hips where the fabric widened into a trapezoid. The front stopped under her knees, yet the back went down to the ankles. No glitter, laces or ornamentation conceded the navy blue silk to shine and sparkle. 

She appeared phenomenal in her evening gown. Dark ultramarine leather high-heels completed her outfit. Her legs were endless, her body elegantly moulded and her milky skin irradiated. She felt womanised from her head to the tip of her toes. She hoped that Freddie’s head would spin. The finishing touch of embellishment was her hair. She formerly restructured her short curls on one side and to her back. She just needed to secure it with sprays of lacquer. She lightly twirled on herself and walked bopped on the music’s tempo when the door’s bell rang. Dear!, he was right on time, yet she still had hair grips keeping her ringlets on. She yelled to the door: 

“Just a sec, I’m coming.” 

She ran to take her clutch, a pochette to bind at her wrist, and untied the hair clips on her way, tossing them around. In front of the entrance’s mirror, she rearranged her hair with her fingers an additional time. Her short cut was spotlessly combed, natural and wavy, not too steady. She pursed her lips to check her lips stick and passed her hands on her dress to get rid of folds. 

She opened the door without greeting her guest and moved in a hurry in the living room. 

“How silly of me! I forgot the record. I’ll be right back.” 

A beaming face stood in the doorframe. He was amused by the evaporating silhouette that he just perceived. She was making such a din. He had been listening for a while at the repetitive light bangs her stilettos were making on the wooden floor. He heard June’s singing and her walking pace speeding faster than the music. In that house was the sound of an untamed woman. 

June majestically reappeared in the corridor, her chin high, long and elegant legs. She was bewitching. What he saw in the half-open door couldn’t predict what she really looked like, simply stunning. His smile was stuck on his expression. His spine chaffed him and he got the impression that his trousers grew tighter. He couldn’t believe the effect this woman had on him. He hoped that he didn’t seem too stupid and common in his rented tuxedo. 

He couldn’t guess that she wasn’t even thinking about that. She just felt his mighty presence in the air. His handsome smile and his blue eyes caught her at the first second she watched him. He had the same effect on her. She needed his kisses and arms. However, she suddenly didn’t remember how to behave with him. Could she let herself yield to this passion? She was clueless. 

He ultimately sighted, “Wow! You are gorgeous!” 

“You look dapper, too.” She smiled. 

“I had a wash before, you know.” He proudly grinned. 

The engine of a black Cadillac cut off their chat. The driver stopped in front of the porch of June’s villa. He got out and opened the back car door. 

“I guess it’s our ride.” Said Freddie as he seized June’s trembling hands to conduct her. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little. It’s a huge reception.” She found as only excuse. 

“I am too.” He confessed, “Yet, you should worry, I won’t step on your feet.” 

He stared at her with a playful grin and hold her hand to help her settle on the backseat of the luxurious car. He took his place next to her, and the driver shut the door. 

 

*** 

Afro-Cuban music set the pace of the party at Sans-Souci Club. People danced mambo sheltered under the trees of the big patio. An orchestra played on the outside platform in front of tables dressed for dinner, dancers in between. Further prestigious guests stood in the back, next to the bar that served cocktails and flutes of champagne. The club, an ancient hacienda, was currently in renovation, so the interior wasn’t accessible. It doesn’t really matter as the outer patio, its stage with its music and exotic dancers was the reason for the success of the nightclub, permanently in competition with the other cabaret in the suburb of La Havana: The Tropicana Club. Who got the most innovative dancing show, a mix between Parisian style and hot Cuban mood, would win the battle. 

Freddie and June were welcomed and guided to the crowd by a commissionaire as soon as the Cadillac stopped in front of the main entrance. The car kept its way to the loaded parking lots, as the couple walked on the red terracotta tiles to join the party. June scanned over the public to search for familiar faces, and she spotted a lot of them, some friendly ones as well as the most dangerous. Freddie seemed to have only eyes for her. A waiter crossed their path with a tray of glasses, so Freddie handled two flutes of champagne. He offered one to June. They held their drink up and cheered. As usual, he wore his famous smile with this intense and kind of roguish stare. The festive mood of the night increased his joy, and June swore that nothing would waste it, not even the boring oncoming social duties. 

She discreetly pointed out a person sitting at the counter and whispered: 

“Can you see the man with a round pair of glasses over there? That’s Santo Trafficante Jr. He is the kind of man you should avoid.” 

“Avoid? Why?” 

“His name might be predestined. He has Cuban roots, but he grew up in Tampa where he was presumed to control the illegal business of Bolita. The American justice department and the Kefauver Commission never had enough evidence to arrest him. In Cuba, he’s sharing the casinos’ business with Meyer Lansky. Both are Big Mafia’s sharks. Trafficante owns this club, and he has major plans for it, according to the ongoing transformations.” 

“You aren't the first person who mentions Mafia’s presence in Cuba, but you almost sound like they are everywhere.” Freddie said seriously. 

“It’s difficult to determine how much the society’s crooked. All those people might be aware of their activities, but everyone is really good at pretending not to see. If anything usual or harmful occurred, it should be either Lansky & Trafficante’s associates or Batista’s SIM and private army. Rolando Masferrer is certainly here, he’s another one from whom to stay away. He’s a Cuban senator who supervised the Tigers, another type of government approved gangsters. All those guys are probably connected anyway. You will learn soon enough that you have to know who you truly are, in what you believe and how to be careful. Then, deal with the situation, but never get involved.” 

“That’s certainly some wise advice. As English citizens, on whose side should we be?” 

“England, of course! I still cherish the greatness of England and its honourable and human values. However, some can’t help to dangle on the side where the money grows. Sometimes I fear that many love riches too much and have already fallen into the mantrap.” 

“You sound defeatist. Do you have somebody in mind?” 

“Not precisely. I often suspect everyone. It’s a bad habit, I suppose. Everything is possible, since Mr. Fordham is having his birthday party in a club owned by Mr. Big Mafia, full of booze, topless girls, with guests from businessmen to Cuban officers. Nevertheless, I still hope that more people have principles and honour that I believe.” She sadly sounded. 

“You can count on me. I fought for my country and the freedom of my fellow countrymen during the war. I meant that my small participation was worth.” He then asked waving his ends in direction of the dance floor, “Shall we, my Orchid?” 

“With pleasure, Lieutenant.” She accepted with a wide smile. 

The Cuban dances weren’t too complicated to execute, when you were accustomed to the swinging moves of English clubs during the war. Cha-cha-cha was repetitive and energetic when Mambo was hotter and more sensual. Freddie was swift, almost an expert. June struggled to equal him. He lured to make her sway and twirl, but after three steps she managed to walk on his foot. 

She blushed “Oh! I’m so sorry!” 

He only laughed and kept the beats, but he preferred easier moves, to avoid being smashed again. She didn’t hurt him, yet who knew what she could do with those shoes. Old-fashioned Rumba steps weren’t sufficient to prevent the next foot crash. Freddie muffled a quirky noise, and June flushed and apologised once more. 

“Sorry! I haven’t danced for a while. I’m a bit rusty.” 

“Well, my wicked orchid, your habits actually aren’t the problem. It’s just that you don’t let me lead.” He gently mocked. 

This time, June turned raspberry red from head to tail. As a result, he whispered into her ears. 

“You have nothing to be afraid of. It’s like sex, just let go!” 

Her core grew tighter and she muted. She felt his warm hand tenderly capture the small of her back. His tangerine and woody fragrance was captivating. Nevertheless, it was so hard to only follow and stay concentrated as she only craved his kisses. Altogether, she could help to remain a control freak. 

“What about going to our table? I’m more or less starving.” She interrupted. 

They reached the centre of the restaurant and found the biggest table where Stanley Fordham—The English ambassador—his wife and few officials from various countries seated. Mrs. Fordham stared at the couple with an uncommon grin. This woman seldom smiled, she was endlessly angry and frustrated. Tonight, it was excitement mixed with stupefaction, and maybe a slight release. She probably wagered every pretty girl around her husband to sleep with him. She was rather intuitive, but she didn’t look in the right direction. She would have more chance if she picked up one of the exotic dancers on the podium. The fact that June was escorted by a handsome gentleman calmed down her jealousy a little. 

At the table, some chairs were empty. Although the dinner was about to be served, the American Ambassador—Arthur Gardner—was still awaited. Freddie’s attention was drowned by a gentleman at another table, in the back of the patio. Mr. Clifton was also a guest of Mr. Fordham, as his position at La Havana University as a geopolitical professor required. However, he preferred staying out of the fuss. He wiped his glasses on his tie while he acknowledged Freddie’s presence, but he didn’t interrupt his conversation. June witnessed this exchange and considered that the new spy needed to find how to be more prudent. Anyway, nobody noticed, not even Freddie himself who should remain unaware of June and Mr. Clifton’s connection. 

The music stopped letting the stage entertainer to announce that dinner was ready, but a different kind of appetiser will be offered first. Mr. Gardner brought a special guest to celebrate the birthday host: Mr. Tony Martin. The audience rumbled and clapped, elated by the presence of a Hollywood crooner. Tony congratulated Mr. Fordham and had a word for his young wife, Cyd Charisse, who unhappily stayed in LA. 

Freddie bent into June’s shoulder and murmured. 

“This party is really a serious matter.” 

“It’s impressive for me as well. Don’t worry you are perfect.” 

“I am going to like Cuban’s way of living.” He said entwining June’s fingers into his under the tablecloth. 

“So do I.” She soughed and held his hands tighter. 

She glared at his profile, his sharp nose, his high forehead, his thin lips and those long eyelashes framing his blue eyes. He looked happy, peaceful and dynamic. He was engrossed in the show, as Tony Martin has always been his favourite singer. 

“Mrs. Grant!” Cheerfully sounded a deep voice. 

June startled and turned her head to see Chris Evans and the American ambassador behind her. They had just greeted Mr. Fordham and were about to take position on the vacant seats. Chris was sleek in his tuxedo, his muscles were sharply chiselled and his beard was finely trimmed. June stood up and said, embarrassed: 

“Good evening Mr. Evans.” 

“You struck as ravishing. I’m glad to meet you here. I’m already looking forward to dancing with you, later.” He cunningly said. 

“Thanks for the compliment, Mr. Evans. But I am afraid that my dance card is overfilled. May I introduce you to Mr. …?” She benignantly replied. 

“Mr. Page!” cut off Chris. “Nice to see you again. I hope your friend Mr. Fernandez is doing fine.” 

“Everything is wonderful.” Retorted a preventive Freddie, with a forceful heavy gaze that June had never previously noticed. “I didn’t know that you are acquainted with June.” 

“Yes, we met on several occasions.” Emphasised Chris. “I was aware she crossed a lot of men, but I didn’t grasp how far her socialisation goes.” 

“I’m sure more people than you conceit are dreaming of knowing her.” Said Freddie grinning at her, yet his stormy look persisted. 

June was boiling on her chair. Chris Evans was his usual self, confident and laid-back. However, his attack was badly disguised. 

“Mr. Evans, did you have the chance to fly on Mr. Fernandez and Mr. Page’s aeroplanes?” She asked to change topics. 

“No, I wasn’t lucky enough to fly high recently.” 

“You should come and try. June can testify that I am a competent pilot and that I gave unforgettable private lessons.” Proudly retorted Freddie. 

Phooey! This began to sound like a cockfight. Happily, the evening only started, because late hours and more alcohol could have transformed them into kids on a playground comparing their willies. Apparently, Chris had found a feisty opponent. 

At the table, no one seemed to register their little argument and what was really going on. However, June nervously fidgeted on her seat during the entire meal. The conversation sounded light and inoffensive, but a few shots were fired. She avoided Freddie’s romantic gestures, not sure if he did it to soothe her or to mark his territory. 

In the middle of this, Mr. Fordham greatly estimated Freddie, and he pushed him to talk about his experience as Lieutenant in the Royal Air Force. The pilot told them a couple of anecdotes about his time during the war. He captivated his audience and Chris inaudibly muttered to himself. The ambassador offered Freddie to present him to more of the guests, past this hearty meal, and more songs from Tony Martin. On their side, the women decided to get their nose powdered. 

June never imagined hiding in the toilets to escape men’s erratic behaviour. She avoided the other wives and ran to the bar to drink a rewarded mojito. 

“Doll, are you sure you don’t have availability for me?” asked Chris behind her back. 

“You know, Chris, you really should stop coming unannounced behind me.” She acidly said. 

“Oh June, courtesy forbid me to tell you what I just thought about! Oops, I guess alcohol and jealousy made me say that out loud. I don’t deny I find you attractive, and I know you are extremely smart too. So, if you choose him, I should trust you. After all, he seemed like a nice fella.” 

“So, are you laying down arms? You should know that I don’t belong to anyone, and that I choose what I want to do and with whom.” She articulated. 

“I’m sure about this. I don’t surrender, because I think there are more interesting secrets to unveil on you.” 

Freddie miraculously bobbed up in the middle of this strange exchange. 

“Mr. Evans, would you allow me to keep my promises? I think that I have more dances to conduct to please this rebellious girl. Time has come to duly take care of my partner and gave her the whole attention she deserves. June would you grant me with the next dance?” 

She held his hands too happy to leave Chris on his spot to argue. Unexpectedly, Freddie didn’t lead her to the dance floor. He chose a space away from the crowd, shielded by the trees. Here, the smell of summer rain formed a peculiar out-of-time ambience. 

“Listen.” 

They both began in the same time. They giggled, but he managed to start talking: 

“June I’m so sorry. I know my behaviour with Chris wasn’t polite, I think you awaited better and you are entitled to. I was disrespectful toward you. I had promised myself to make up for not calling you. calling you. I might have just blown my last chance!” He took a pause and peered at his shoes and shamefully brushed a hand into his hair. 

He carried on, “I’m definitely not fit for this game. You know this bloody Romeo and Juliet things. I inevitably end to misbehave and do something off. When Chris started with his offensive innuendoes, I went mad. I wished to uphold you, and I was a total twat.” 

“Yes, that was really embarrassing, but I figure out your intentions. And since we are being honest with each other, I’m not good at dating either.” 

“I understand you need space and freedom. I love that you are a free spirit and a strong woman. I never met anybody like you. You’re amazing! I just want to be around you. I want that to be simple and warm. Whatever I do, it always turns out to be confusing. Train wrecks of complications are everything I wish to stay away from.” 

He nervily sought for his ciggies in the inner pocket of his jacket. 

“I know that by heart. Nevertheless, I felt sublime last Saturday. As you said it was light, casual maybe. I am as scared as you for complications. But for once in a blue moon, I don’t want to run away. Perhaps I should. Perhaps I’m a tad upset. However, I’m willing to try ‘simple’ for once.” She said. 

“Do you mean that you’ll give me an ultimate chance?” He contemplated her with puppy wondering eyes. 

“Probably!” She sighted and smiled.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIC SUMMARY: June Grant was Freddie Page former neighbour in London; they met again in Cuba at the end of the ’50s. Here is a story about a romance during the Cuban revolution, full of adventures, spies and an OFC with a lot of mysteries and surprises.

His hand had been tightly attached onto the small of her back. It was confident and caring. He confined her palm on his chest with his left fingers. She was bewitched. She was drowning in his eyes, their unique blue shade, clear and profound, deeper than the blue Caribbean Sea. In that moment, she was sailing. He had conducted her, swaying, emulating the music like waves. His touch had launched electric chills from her spine to her legs. They had been flying, and the pilot had majestically been in charge. She had felt cherished and secured and forget everything around, the crowd, her work or Chris Evans who had been focus on them all night. Every atom of her being was yielding. 

Caught in between her early morning memories and the sun coming through the roller blinds, her mind held back last night bliss. The sensation of soothing and pleasure spun her head around. She was drowsy from dancing and from a mind-blowing night of sex. 

Beside her, the space in the bed was empty, but the sheets were sweetened with his fragrance. She perceived a feeble hurly-burly coming from her kitchen at the other corner the villa. She could also smell the fiery scent of warm coffee. Breakfast, an excellent idea! She realised she was hungry.

She eventually found her pearl silk dressing gown, undetectable under all the clothes left on the floor. Her marine night dress, her stockings, her lacy girdle, a black tuxedo and a white cotton shirt had been the victims of an explosion, and were scattered on the ground. She traced a couple of items, such as shoes and a bow tie like dots showing the way into the corridor. 

Freddie was absorbed by a bowl of eggs that he agilely whipped with a fork. He frowned, his eyebrows tensed but his wrist was so aerial. Silently, she scanned him. His curls were a cute mess. His naked chest and abs were underlined by a golden suntan. A few hairs on his belly ended concealed under a white apron fasten around his slim waist. She melted and was compelled to smile.

“Good Morning, Lieutenant!” 

Thwarted, he raised his head. His face was illuminated by his incredible grin.

“Hello, sleepy Orchid. Are you hungry? Do you want a cup of coffee?”

“Yes, please!”

He grabbed the aluminium coffeepot on the hob and filled up a cup. She ambled toward him to take her coffee, but at the last moment, he retreated it away from her.

“Wait a minute! You may have it under one condition.” He baited.

“Which one?” She asked, bemused.

“Kiss me!” He begged and grinned.

“At your service, Lieutenant.” She teased.

Her palms flat on his chest, she applied a peck on his lips, but he snatched her nape with his free hand, and he transformed their kiss into something wilder, deeper and more intimate. She drifted her fingers onto his back, taking him closer, savouring his silken skin. She fondled his back and discovered that the apron was indeed the only clothes he was wearing. She then rubbed his rock-hard buttocks and pinched them. He almost spilled the coffee out of the mug that he was still holding.

“Wow! You’re a really naughty girl!” He falsely complained.

“That isn’t an appropriate uniform for a Chef, anyway! What did you cook us up?”

Lastly, he gave her the mug, and surrounded her waist with an arm. She laid a hand on his back, and side-by-side, he waved to the saucepan on the oven to proudly announce the menu. 

“Scrambled eggs with bacon, beans, tomatoes, pepperonis, platanas and some chorizo: a special Cuban-style English breakfast!”

“It looks delicious. Where did you find all these?”

“It’s my secret. No, seriously, some items come from your cupboard, and I bought the meat from the butcher down the street.”

“Which streets? The closest shop is three blocks away?”

“Yes, that what I meant. I might have woken up in the wee hours to conceive my surprise.”

“Are you trying to seduce me, Lieutenant? We say that men can be charmed through their stomach, yet it doesn’t apply for women.” She giggled.

“You didn’t try my cooking skill, yet.” He winked.

“I’m looking forward to. However, I am hoping that your competences also included cleaning and tidying a kitchen.” She said pointing to the grimed room.

The kitchen worktop had looked like it actually had been hit a hurricane. The whole content of her cupboards was displayed all around, and pans and pots were left dirty in the sink. 

He burst out laughing showing his teeth and threw his head back. “OK, I’ll clean up and you’ll do the dishwashing.”

“Jeez! You are already barging. You are just a brat, Lieutenant!” She clapped his butt in a sleazy way. She was playing a bold game, maybe it would be safer for her to find a way out and let him unable to reply. She had to move fast. Without any explanation, she hurried and left him standing alone and confound in the room. Then, she walked to the entrance gate. Bottles of milk were arranged in the shadow under the porch. She carried them back into the kitchen and poured some milk into her cup of coffee under Freddie’s mesmerised stare. Her dressing gown had shifted and widened her cleavage. 

“Watch out! Your eggs are going to burn.” She nodded.

“Fudge!” 

He moved the pan away from the fire and, as he already knew the place like his own, he took two plates and put the food on. They both sat at the table in front of their meal. At first, she sniffed.

“It’s smell scrumptious.”

“Thank you.”

Secondly, she tugged her forks into the eggs, and used her knife to build an unflawed bite with beans, bacon and tomatoes on top. He leered at her with fascination while she performed her strange ritual.

“Hmm, and it truly tastes succulent. Honestly, I didn’t have a proper English breakfast for a long time, and this one is absolutely fantastic.”

He beamed! No, he truthfully sparkled, obviously self-content.

“I’m glad you like it.”

They both relished their meal quietly for a while, until she asked.

“So what’s your plan?”

“What about dressing to stroll in the streets and see where we would end? You could be my personal tourist guide and show me the spot to be in La Havana.”

“It sounds mint! I’m in for anything you want.” Her face got more serious, though. “However I didn’t mean your plan for today. I was thinking about us, dating... More simple.”

“Oh sorry. I remember what we said yesterday.” He cupped his chin with his hand. “Aren’t we currently comfortable together?”

“Yes, we are. I am feeling wonderful. I danced until my feet couldn’t carry me anymore. I just ate more than my stomach can handle. And you know that last night was amazing.” She answered.

“I feel the same. Why should we make that more complicate? We both work and are engaged during the week. Saturday is my day-off, so we should celebrate it. I could leave the airport on Friday evening and return there on Sunday night. Two nights and one day, that all I could promise.” He said too brittle to look at her eyes.

“No promise!” she said. “Never any promise, unless we could keep it. We should just make the most of our time together.”

“I could go with that. However, may I call you during the working days or escort you to some parties outside our weekend?” he asked.

“We can call and date each other during the week as much as we fancy. Anyway our jobs come first, so we are allowed to say no. It wouldn’t mean betrayals or disillusion.”

No promise also meant no pledge of allegiance. Nevertheless, she only wanted him, and didn’t wish to cheat on him, certainly not with Chris. Deep inside of her, she could merely hope that he would do the same.

“Then, one day and no promise! And we’ll see where this could lead us.” He approved.

“Yes! But, can I add something, please? Don’t lie to me. I could understand that you need some privacy, but do not lie!”

“This will be the only promise I make then. Because I intend to keep it.” He swore.  

Of course, he would have to hide the activity he had to conduct for Geoffrey Clifton. Else, it wasn’t a real lie. In the worst scenario, it would be a lie by omission. In his mind, he was able to keep his oath. After all, he was just protecting her. 

“I think we reach an agreement. That’s simple enough for me.” She said.

“For me as well.” He eyed her to seal their deal, waiting for her to smile.

She was lost in thought, knowing that they couldn’t avoid having secrets from each other, as she didn’t wish to reveal her past and her current activities. Their pact was already doomed.

His fingers on her knee brought her back to reality, and she let him wander a hand on her thigh lifting the silk away. This serious conversation went smoother than she expected. However he was providing her a way out of a further open-hearted talk. Consequently, she stood up and unlaced her belt. The fabric slid down and finished on the floor. Their fingers intertwined while she languidly sat on his lap. Her skin was soft like satin, her naked body so hot and bendy. He started to lick her breasts, and clamped down on a nipple that instantly spiked under his tongue. She held him close, her hands into his hair. They both moaned. 

***

So, the morning went by confined inside June's home and bedroom. It was only in the beginning of the afternoon, that Freddie ran into the streets, in his tuxedo, to go back to his boarding house, to change clothes before she arrived. She observed his athletic silhouette escaping. He could try to fool Mama Nita, but it was pointless. The old lady was as smart as a fox. She would perceive what is clearly happening. She would understand that her resident didn’t spend the night in his room, and she would immediately smell romance in the air.

June turned up in front of the guest house a few minutes after Freddie walked in and leapt up the stairs. She tracked the savoury smell of Mama’s cooking that led her to the modest kitchen, where the Cuban was roasting slices of pineapples in a spicy mixture of honey and rum. She was chitchatting with Shirley.

“Hello girls! I see that you can’t resist coming back to your former home and taste Mama’s delights.” She told Shirley.

“Neither do you, evidently!” answered the secretary. 

“I don’t think June is here to visit me.” Winked Mama Nita, “Mi Querida, you look fabulous today.”

“Thank you, Mama. It smells tasty in here.” Said June who deposited two pecks on her cheeks.

“Please take a seat, mis chicas, and have a bite of those.”

The chunky lady served a sizzling slice of grilled pineapples to everyone. The two young women kept an eye on her, sitting at the table in the kitchen. The room was so flamboyant and welcoming, as her owner. They both felt like home, a happier home than theirs.

“La Americana, just asked me to cook her wedding feast. However I can’t accept. It’s a tradition reserved to mothers. And as she is marring a Cuban, the honour goes to her future mother-in-law.”

“That’s the reason you should ally in the kitchen for that day.” Said Shirley.

June watched the matriarch’s face crumbled, therefore she burst into laughing. 

“Goodness, Shirley! Do you imagine those two strong-headed women sharing a kitchen? Stashed the knives, please! Although, it might be difficult to cook up anything without knives.” Joked June.

“By the same token, hide the forks as well.” Simpered Shirley. “In any case, Mama’s a better cook…”

“Ask your future step-mother to prepare the meal, while Mama bakes the wedding cake in here. It should be a wise compromise to keep the peace.” Suggested June.

“And I could add a few desserts, some of my secret recipes.” Said the Cuban enthusiastic.

“I gather you reach an agreement.” Said June.

“Well, I guess none of you left me any choice.” Simpered Shirley. “June, tell me, are you planning to be accompanied by anyone particular, for my wedding ceremony?”

Mama Nita and Shirley exchanged a knowing look. 

“All right ladies, you can stop the innuendoes. I know what you are thinking. I have no ideas about your wedding yet, but I am indeed here to join Freddie, and guide him around the city.

“Hum, Freddie? First name already?

“Exactly, Freddie! I might see him frequently, from now on…”

“Mi Querida, that are marvellous news. He is such a pleasant guy. An English gentleman is what you deserve.”

“Are you talking about me?” interrupted Freddie looking fit while wearing casual clothes. “Mrs. Grant, it’s nice to meet you here.”

The three women exploded into an endless laugh, so Freddie looked at them puzzled. Did he say something odd?

“Freddie, you are so kind to try to preserve my reputation, but these harpies had already figured out everything.” Giggled June.

***

The fabric of June’s dress flew around her, and rubbed against the grey linen of his trousers. June and Freddie’s clothes were not the only thing that subtly kept contact. Their fingers remained nearby, vaguely grazing. She wore a sheer white sundress imprinted with blueberries and leaves. She looked fresh as a daisy and even delectable. The berries echoed the washed blue of his shirt that he casually let somewhat open. They aimlessly wandered in the streets of El Barrio Chino, in the middle of the day crowd. The city was alive and swarming with market vendors, shops, bars and colourful houses. It attracted all sorts of people.

She was supposed to take him visit La Havana, but they were just enjoying being together, in this exceptional area and its amazing tropical smell. As the sun was high and the weather was sweltering, June suggested having a drink on a terrace. However, Freddie preferred to stay only with her, and continue strolling in their bubble. Later, They met a farmer, who set his stall on the pavement to sell his late orange production.

“Oranges! That’s a luxury we didn’t often have in England. That’s one of the things I like about South America.”

“It isn’t the only thrill of Cuba.” She smiled.

Since Freddie struggled to peel the fruit, she looked at him amused, seeing his eyebrows contracted under his effort, a trait that she previously admired. In her red handbag, she found a tiny army knife. She took the orange and cut the skin in four portions. 

“I’m impressed. You are a well-organised and resourceful woman. I would love to get lost with you.” He joked.

She giggled and sucked the orange juice that slipped down her thumb. Freddie’s pupil expanded. He tasted a wedge, and moaned of satisfaction, eating the fruit greedily. He was appealing and he knew it. She was playing with him, though, and he didn’t want to lose that easily. He handed June a slice that she carefully bit, avoiding snapping his fingers. A drop leaked from her lips and flew on her chin. Freddie lifted his index, and swept the liquid before wiping his finger with his tongue. She pursed her lips when she heard him groaned once more. He indulged her the second half of the slice and, this time, she nipped his fingers in her full mouth and licked them. He craved to kiss her as she also moaned. A lot of people crossed their path, without noticing their obvious game. However, they knew they couldn’t authorise themselves to more intimate caresses. Ultimately, he proposed his arm to June who clung at it, and they started to tootle again. He devoured the fruit within no time, but didn’t forget to grant June with a piece, once in a while.

El Capitolo began to peer out behind the house. June encouraged him to find a better view in some of the further streets. She drew him into a gloomy alley leading to the parallel avenue. The sidestreet was narrow, so the sun couldn’t gleam through. 

“Where are you taking me?” he expelled with a husky voice.

“In a better place.” She smirked. “Do you trust me?”

He stopped and pinned her against the wall.

“Yes!” He whispered, “the question is: do YOU trust me?”

She exhaled deeply, her breathe was getting heavier. He brushed his nose against her frown. She smells like oranges and flowers. He tenderly kissed her lips, swallowing her breath, fondling her hips. She was so delicate that he was afraid to break her, to hurt her feeling, so that he treated her with care, like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“My Orchid.” He hushed.

His voice was nothing but pure lust, and she was melting under his loving touch. He locked her more strongly against the wall, pressing his body on her. Their kisses intensified. Their tongue frantically danced together. Their grips on each other were more forceful. He was claiming her. She could sense his budge in his pants while her core ached. His hands lifted her skirt slowly while he caressed the velvety skin of her thighs. 

Suddenly, the unexpected sound of an opening door froze them. They remained motionless and attached, while three women closed the door and walked in the opposite direction. Fortunately, they didn’t notice the lovers. 

“You are a dangerous man.” She said.

“Yes!” he suggestively blew.

He caught her hands and they emerged in an animated street packed with tourists. He firmly held her, so she couldn’t flee.

“Look on your right. That’s the best view in town.” She announced.

“I completely agree.” He said his stare riveted on her.

“Nonsense! Not me, but El Capitolo over there.” She gestured.

A white dome enlightened by the beam of the sunshine was framed by two rows of rainbow like colonial houses. It was massive and captivating. Freddie appreciated the view, but not as much as being with June, not as much as her bright green eyes and the copper brown reflects in her hair. 

They moved toward the monument when June found another dark alley that led to a little plaza. She rushed through it, trying to avoid his grip. Of course he chased her, given that her laugh dared him to catch her. She almost reached the sunlight, when he embraced her waist and tightly trapped her to nibble her graceful nape. Her laugh muted. She breathed hardly again. In spite of her desire to be touched, to be loved and taken here, right away, they kept their way on the small square. He stood behind her, to veil his embarrassing crotch with her vaporous dress. 

Music was resounding in the corner of the plaza, and a bunch of people danced following the rhythm. A Cuban band, four elder men, played guitars and bongos, and set a fast pace. Freddie commanded.

“Let’s dance.”

“No, I will smash your feet again.”

“Come on, June. I trust you, remember?” he rasped.

“If you are ready to take that risk, then…” she grinned and tossed her shoes away from her feet, leaving them on the sidewalk. 

He laughed and followed her action. He withdrew his slip-on loafers to display them next to her white ballet slippers. They both chuckled and he captured her in his arms mimicking the other dancers. They were closer than the English conventions would permit, but it was more exciting this way. He guided her into feverish moves and made her laugh at every whirl. She invariably ended crushed onto his chest. She managed to obey him and his bold steps. Their fingers rubbed their bodies, their legs entwined. Her figure felt his heart bouncing, his soft skin and lithe hands through her dress. Their noses touched and their eyes sealed into each other. They were burning; their hearts weren't the body parts pulsating because of the music. Their hips suggestively swayed, pushed by the back-and-forth of the sexy Samba moves. They freely laughed; they barely kissed, just tentatively brushing their lips. Their bare feet didn’t sense the heat and sharpness of the paved ground. They were caught in this swirl of expected pleasure.

June whispered to his ear between two twirls.

“Maybe, we should go back home, otherwise we would be arrested by the police for indecent behaviours.”

“I agree.” He murmured and winked.

Then, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away starting to escort her back to her house. 

“My Orchid, if we get pinched it will be all your fault!” He blurted out.

But she remained standing on her spot.

“Eh, Lieutenant! You began!”

“I don’t think so.” He boastfully gleamed and challenged her, tearing on her hand again to make her move.

“Wait, we forget our shoes!” She said. 

 

TO BE CONTINUED

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: No sex, but a lot of foreplays.
> 
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: Freddie and June will this happen? Is it possible? Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen. Other texts are available here or on AO3.


	9. CHAPTER 8

And so the summer went on without any noticeable event, however there was one exception, the lovely and familial wedding of Shirley and Gaël. June was invited, but she attended without an escort. This specific Saturday, Freddie conveniently had to step up for Guillermo at the airport. They both sensed that going to a wedding ceremony together implied to many unsolved questions. His excuse was adopted and didn’t bring any potential tensions.   

June had a nice day. Fortunately, Chris Evans decided to keep his distance with her during the event. He only spent a couple of hours at the ceremony, obliging his chauffeur’s invitation.  

The rest of the summer’s months were quiet for the English woman. The season wasn’t crowded for Cuba. Casinos and nightclubs weren’t a preferred destination for family holiday. The heat was suffocating and prevented heavy tourism traffic. The entire country activity slowed down. Summer hours were set, and every administration shut down earlier. Work at the Embassy was calm as well. Many people took this opportunity to travel, sometimes flying abroad, back home, to visit their relatives and friends. However, June remained, because she had no one to go back to, and she wouldn’t miss any moment with the most important man in her life right now. Their arrangement was quite convenient and brought only idyllic times. Nobody would have been able to cloud their sky, not even Chris and his weird insistence to trouble her.  

As a matter of fact, Chris also travelled back to his home town of Boston. June pulled a few strings to verify his whereabouts. He buried his grandmother and stayed a month with his parents, his two sisters and his brother to aid them with the reading of the will and handling her affairs. During these four weeks, the CIA had sent a young agent to take over for him. Without Chris’s connections and habits, he wasn’t of any use. He shunned June which for her was a relief.   

After the Moncada Garrison Attack in Santiago three years ago, the power in place was still occupied to chase down the remaining opponents. Most of them were dead, released from jail and fled to Mexico with one of the leaders, a so-called Fidel Castro, a new lawyer, or were hiding in the mountains of la Sierra Maestra. It was looking for a needle in a haystack. Although, England’s official position was to support Batista’s government, the Bristish had every interest in finding the belligerents. They wouldn’t nudge any communist behaviour, but information was the key. It could be trade against specific favours. From her place, June couldn’t do anything to help. She had to count on local double agents or on the cooperation of Cuban citizens tired of Batista’s oppression, who were more inclined towards the Queen than Stalin. For sure, the Americans had more means, pitifully, with the current unexperienced officer, they weren’t more successful.   

According to Carla, at the Ministry of Foreigner and Internal Affairs, with whom June spent time outside of work together with the other girls from their private cinema club, their summer occupations were boring and slow, as well. Nobody found anything. The SIM only did meagre progress.   

The situation was the opposite for Freddie, he was fairly busy. Despite the lack of tourists, transportation of goods to La Havana fully used the airport services. Some farmers choose to deliver a share of their production via plane to the capital, or exported it to the USA. Every Casino and Hotel in town were gradually preparing their stocks for the high season. Local products, mainly alcohol and cigars, loaded their storage, but Bourbon, Vodka and finest French wines had to be imported from Key West to Cuba. The airport was directly in competition with the big American airline companies, yet its flexibility and its discretion allowed Guillermo and Freddie to fill their schedule. They hired more mechanics, administrative staff and air-traffic controllers. A new position as pilot was left open. Soon they would be able to admit more private jets and knew that more would come this winter.  

June observed this growing activity with pleasure. She was happy for Freddie’s achievements, yet she was a tad anxious as well. Transporting items for local casinos inevitably meant working for the Mafia. So far, the venture was legal, but Mafia could be trouble. Freddie was clever enough to keep his distance. He didn’t want to jeopardise their enterprise. He invested too much into this airport.   

Mr. Clifton, on his side, wasn’t disappointed to see Lansky and accomplices conducted business with the airport. Keeping an eye on the mafia’s transactions was made easier, since Freddie could inform him on the ongoing activities. He was an unexpected resource for the spymaster. June got a really good hunch when she suggested enlisting him for a little spy game. From his secretive spot, he could observe a lot of things, an ideal complement to her status as the Ambassador’s assistant. Of course, she knew about him, but Clifton remained closed and didn’t mention June hidden work to Freddie.   

In the middle of September, Freddie and June were still in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. Their feelings for each other intensified, however, their little arrangement forbade them to consider anything more serious. Neither were bothered, as long as their Saturday was spent together and they had a perfect time.  

This Saturday, the weather was rainy again. Drizzles that didn’t squelch the usual heat. So, it became one of a lazy day, one in which they stayed in bed, made love, cuddled or napped. One of their favourite distractions, a moment when they were the only people in the world. Anything could happen, they couldn’t care less.  

Freddie’s hands were wandering on her arms, launching goose bumps on her skin. He was staring at her, leaving no doubt of his desire. He couldn’t get her out of his system. She was his obsession. Her lips trembled, she needed him as much as he needed her.  

When the doorbell rang, they were caught off guard. They weren’t expecting anybody. Who would dare to interrupt them?   

“Don’t answer!” hushed Freddie.  

But the intruder insisted and seemed to forget his finger on the button.   

“I have to check who it is.” Said June. 

Annoyed at the interruption, she moved out of the bed, and search for her vaporous dressing gown left on the floor. Frustrated that she was no longer in his arms, He turned himself on his back and fisted the pillow. This sensation didn’t last as he relished the view of the naked woman slipping on the silk on her smooth body. He wished that it was his hands instead of the fabric caressing each and every one of her curves. Damn, she should have stayed in bed. Who was this bastard at the door?  

Wrapped in her dressing gown, she opened and was surprised to see an odd trio standing on her porch. Chris in a grey suit, with an unbuttoned white shirt and unknotted tie, and Gaël, his chauffeur, dully wearing his dark uniform were carrying a man under his shoulders. She never met him before, and if she did, he was impossible to identify. His face was bleeding from multiple lesions, his nose was sliced on the top, his eyebrow was cut and blood invaded his eye that he couldn’t open due to a massive bruise. His shirt was torn and covered with blood stained. If he had participated in a boxing game, he was obviously the looser, in spite of his natural heavy frame could make you think he was a professional boxer. 

“Chris, Gaël, what are you doing here so late? Who is this man?” asked June puzzled as she drew her robe tighter around her naked body.   

“Is Freddie Page with you?” retorted Chris without taking care to answer her questions. “Could you tell him that his homeboy Guillermo is injured?”  

“Oh…” she said registering part of the situation, at last. However, she remained stoical, not worrying about the probable neighbors witnessing this odd scene. “Freddie, could you please come, quickly? We have a problem.” She yelled to the bedroom.   

She heard him jumping out of the bed and then the soft cursing as she assumed he was tripping on his knickers when he hurriedly put them on. In a blink of an eye, he was in the hallway standing half-naked with a concerned glare. First, he had the confirmation that the voice he just perceived from the room did indeed belong to Chris Evans, but he wasn’t expecting to see his buddy in such an awful state.  

“Guillermo! mate, what happened to you? Come in.” Anxiously enquired Freddie.  

“You may place him in the little room on the left. It’s my private office and guest room. Lay him on the bed. He should be comfortable.” Indicated June. 

Freddie took over Chris, and together with Gaël they carried Guillermo who could barely walk. He moaned with pain, every movement struck to be a torture. Chris and June followed them to the tiny office. The Mexican was cautiously lied down on the fluffy pillows. The American instructed his employee.  

“Gaël, I will leave you the car for tonight. I will find a taxi. I prefer that you stay until everything is settled. We’ll see tomorrow.”  

“Yes, Mr. Evans.”  

“June would you escort me outside?” requested Chris. “Maybe you should call for a doctor. I am afraid that he might have broken ribs.”  

The woman led him to the entrance. She didn’t notice that Chris looked at her silky dress. The light of the corridor shone enough to let him see her curved form through the sheer fabric. He passed by her swiftly.  

“I am sorry if we disturbed you. I thought that bringing Guillermo to his friend was a judicious idea.”   

“Of course you did!” she said aware that Chris wasn’t truly apologising. He was just testing her reaction, for sure. And he was also claiming that he knew about her and Freddie, nothing would escape his watch. 

“Chris, tell me what happened.”  

“He owes money, evidently!”  

“To whom?”  

“Lefty Clark!”  

“One of your cronies from the mafia!” she scornfully answered.  

“Not really. Lefty is just a card player. And you know as well as I do, that everybody on this island comes around the mafia once or twice. They are inevitable.”  

“Anyway, why did you rescue him?”  

“I am not a monster, June. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that. And I was sure you would help your lover’s associate.” Notified Chris with a little spark of regret in his eye.  

“Thank you, Chris, you were right to bring him. I appreciate your gesture. Do you need me to guide you to the nearest taxi station?”  

“No! Thank you, Doll. I’ll find my way from here.”   

“As you wish. By the way, I was sorry to learn about the death of your grandmother. Please, accept my condolences.” Uttered June as goodbye. 

She was also able to compete at the game of “you-know-I-know.” She had her own information, and from now on, he was warned. He tried to hide his surprise, but a little involuntary smirk gave him up.  

“Thanks for your solicitousness. Night Doll.”    

Luckily, June knew a doctor nearby, who, beside his alcohol issues, was actually discreet. He would certainly come within no times if he weren’t already sleeping in a semi-coma. She seized the Bakelite phone of the corridor and called him immediately. His wife answered and ensured that her husband would be here as soon as possible. In her bath room, she uncovered fresh towels, bandages, plasters and disinfectant lotions. A bowl of tepid water would complete the essential remedies.   

Into the room, the two men had managed to strip Guillermo’s shirt off, but his wife-beater was smeared too. As a nurse would do, June sat on the edge of the bed and dipped the towel into the mild water. She swept away every trace of blood that had dried on his neck, chest and face. Her gestures were delicate, but precise and sure. She softly cleaned every wound with water and then she applied antiseptic compresses to avoid infections. Some of the scratches might require stitches. Guillermo was conscious but rather dopey. He didn’t complain.   

Freddie watched every move that June performed. She was sweet and quiet. This situation didn’t make her panic. It was like she had done that her whole life. He was impressed. However, he was a little jealous too. Seeing his girl, so tender and careful touching another man, assuredly for a proper cause, needled him. This woman was a mystery. And he currently enjoyed that more than he expected.  

Guillermo peered at June and managed to air a faint, “Gracias !” 

“Guillermo, you are definitely the stupidest man I ever met.” She harshly said.  

His face showed confusion and disbelief.  

“Playing cards with the mafia, that a heedless behaviour. Casinos are designed to steal your money, but private poker sessions are just big scams. As we say, if you don’t know who’s the pigeon is, it might as well be you.” 

“June, let him be. It’s not the appropriate time. He is hurt” interrupted Freddie.  

“On the contrary, his pain might get him clipped pretty good. Guillermo, if you wish to lose your money, it’s your burden. But the mafia doesn’t want your money. They want your airport. If not your complex, at best, they want your services, for free, for illegal business. Once they are in, they will never leave. Your chance is that Lefty Clark is Meyer Lansky’s associate, and he doesn’t do drugs as far as I know. But, be on your guard with the other big guy, Santo Trafficante, he might not have Meyer’s scruples. But for sure, they are both extremely harmful. Stay away! Your mistakes would undoubtedly resurge on others, like your partner.”  

“You are right, Miss…” he replied with a little voice, as a child caught with his hand in the candy Jar.  

“You may, call me June. It’s OK. Now rest until the doctor arrives.” 

The doorbell jingled again, a sign that the mentioned man should be already here. Gaël who had remained silent during all that time, just standing in a corner unable to lend a hand, went to answer the door. He came back with a short man, badly dressed, with greasy hair and a five-O’ clock shadow. His breath smelled of cheap rum, but his mind was miraculously clear. With a grotty Spanish accent he questioned the casualty. He hung on with Freddie in the room to examine Guillermo more closely.  

Gaël and June relocated to the kitchen, where she put a kettle on the stove. A cuppa tea will be welcomed in such a situation.   

“Thank you for staying, Gaël. Do you wish to call Shirley, she must be worried?”  

“No, it won’t be necessary. She is used to me coming late, she met my boss. And besides, I don’t tell her about my job, so maybe, she shouldn’t learn about this incident.” 

“Is that the kind of ‘normal’ things with Mr. Evans?” she asked.  

“You can never know. Chris does all sorts of bizarre things. He travels a lot. He is always on the roads somewhere, into business meetings, a party or random sort of occupation. He might make me cross the country if needed. Lately, he requested to be driven in Corralillo near Santa Clara. So, we rode during hours under the sun. He didn’t utter a word through the whole journey.” 

“Did he go there for business?”  

“No, for a burial.”   

As his grandmother entombment took place in Boston, her confused face pulled Gaël to reveal more. “Yes, a funeral. A young woman. I didn’t get her name. I don’t even remember that he even met her. He remained behind the crowd. Only her family was present. However, I noticed cars from the SIM and I am sure that Manuel Blanco Rico was in one of the cars.” 

“The chief of the SIM?”  

“Himself. And Chris saw him too. He greeted him with a nod, before leaving.”  

“That’s weird. Maybe you shouldn’t tell that to anybody, and, of course, not to Shirley. Your boss could be dangerous, so be cautious.”  

“I am aware. Please don’t tell I confided you this.” Pleaded Gaël understanding that he might have reported too much.  

“Don’t worry. I’ll be like a tomb.”  

The doctor suddenly emerged in the kitchen guided by the voices. He declared that no bones were broken, no major internal injuries were detected and only a couple of stitches have been required. June discreetly slid a few dollar bills in the old man’s hand. He shoved them into his inner pocket. On the porch, he exposed a silver flask and drank a sip of booze, then vanished into the night.  

While Gaël and June savoured an English tea and kept on chit-chatting, Freddie took care of his mate. After June’s treatment and the doctor’s visit, Guillermo started to regain human figure. He promptly fell into a deep sleep. Freddie covered him with a blanket and remained with him for a while. He was nervous and had every right to be. June could be in danger because of him. Their airport was at risk. His mate could have died. This recent business was a real occasion for him to do something great and honest, to possess something on his own. These might soon be over, if he didn’t react. Perhaps Mr. Clifton could help them. How could his life always be so difficult? Everything he planned, constantly turned out messy.   

He walked into the small room, lost in his thoughts, wandering his hands on each object he crossed, a Tiffany lamp on the wooden desk, an elegant fountain pen, a letter opener engraved with the emblem of the Ministry of Defence of the United Kingdom. As a soldier he recognized it instantly. He didn’t wish to be especially sneaky, but an unsealed envelope was displayed on the desk. The sender’s address was his old residence in London. He recognised this refined handwriting, the writing of a cultivated woman, Hester Collyer. He couldn’t resist to read it. 

The tone of the text was friendly and light. Hes obviously remained pen pal since he left for Rio. She was casual, giving June news. She informed that she liked her job at St-James Library, and that she got a promotion as manager of the poetry section. She acknowledged June to have recommended her for this position. Freddie could easily picture her in such a universe. He was even glad for her. He also learnt that Mr. Elton had died, and that Mrs. Elton was still in charge of the guesthouse. He recalled the landlady and his bad temper. This souvenir made him smile. Hester was onwards divorced, but her husband paid her visit from time to time, just to check if she needed anything. A professor often dropped by the library, a charming man that offered her to have a coffee. However, she hesitated. It was too early, following her separation. She also confessed that although many years might have passed after Freddie abandoned her, she still missed him, that she might not have entirely healed, that she wondered where he was and what he could have become. Nothing in her message meant that she knew about him, about Cuba and about their couple. June obviously didn’t tell her. To spear her or to hide him? Perhaps, it was better that Hester remained in the dark. He put the letter back in the envelope. Once checking on his friend, he went out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.  

When Gaël saw Freddie still half-naked entering the kitchen, he deposited his empty cup on the table, sprung off his chair and decided to leave the lovebirds together. His presence shouldn’t be required any more. He politely took his leave.   

“How is Guillermo doing?” Asked June

“He’s alright, I guess. He is sleeping for the moment. The doctor said that I could bring him to the airport tomorrow. Thank you for your care and to let him rest here. I will repay you for the doctor’s fee.”   

“No problem, Guillermo is your friend. He is welcomed. I am relieved that his state isn’t more serious. And for the money, just forget it. You may pay me in nature.” She winked to end this uncomfortable speech.  

“June, come on. I’m not joking.” He frowned his eyebrow.  

“I understood. I said forget it. There’s hot water left, do you fancy a cup of tea?” she asked to close the subject.  

“No. Thank you, my Orchid. I am exhausted, maybe we should go back to bed and sleep.”   

“That would be wise. It’s quite late.”  

She followed him to the bed room, after switching the lights off, causing the house to appear as quiet as it should be in the middle of the night. They slid under the sheet tossing their few clothes on a chair and snuggled against one another. He took her in the crook of his shoulder, and she laid her hand on his chest. He kissed her forehead to wish her good night. With small repetitive circles, he fondled her resting hand to lull her.   

However, their eyes continued to stare in the night. He couldn’t help think about Hester and how she would act. Or June and her cold-blooded reaction with Guillermo. He was scared to lose her, to lose everything. 

June’s mind was troubled about the airport and Freddie’s future. Nevertheless, Chris’s strange behaviour and Gaël confession on his boss raised a lot of questions. She definitely needed to discover who was buried in the cemetery of Corralillo. Who could be so crucial for a CIA agent and the Chief of the SIM?  

**Author's Note:**

> RATING: M/NSFW+18  
> WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHOR NOTES: smut in following chapters…  
> NOTES/ADVERTISEMENTS: Here’s the first chapter of a new story, I am just testing if anybody would be interested to read a fictional follow up of “The Deep Blue Sea.” Thanks to my beta reader @deathbyukmen.


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